


Unmarked

by TheGangHitsTheSlopes



Series: Romantic Rights Are All That We Got [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I literally posted seven chapters of this before I realized I forgot to tag the main characters, Light Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, businessman iwaizumi, teacher oikawa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6585676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGangHitsTheSlopes/pseuds/TheGangHitsTheSlopes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi Hajime just moved to Kyoto to start a life on his own. He expected to face challenges, but he didn't expect anything quite as persistent as Oikawa Tooru. Over time, Iwaizumi finds himself falling for his flamboyant new friend but he can't stop thinking about the faded marking on the back of his neck or the one Oikawa purposefully obscures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Laundromat Assholes

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly world-building/character background in the first chapter, level with me haha

It was nice outside for early April, at least nicer than Iwaizumi was used to. The Kansai region was famous for beautiful spring weather, but experiencing it was different than just reading about it. He knew back home it’d be another couple of weeks before the cherry blossoms would reach full bloom, but he could see the trees covered in clouds of pink at the temple across the street, swaying lightly in the breeze.

Unfortunately, Iwaizumi couldn’t enjoy the springtime weather. His new job started at full-speed, giving him little time to adjust to the pace of the office, let alone the lifestyle changes incurred by moving across the country. He’d settled into his new apartment only three weeks ago; most of the boxes remained unpacked in the tiny room. Two paths forked from the futon with one leading to the bathroom and the other to the kitchen and front door. Iwaizumi had finally invested in a small dresser but as he went to unpack his clothes he found nearly all the boxes empty, his hampers full to the brim.

Which is why he was here at a coin Laundromat on a Sunday after work. Technically Sundays were his days off, but with the high demand the company placed on new employees Iwaizumi had ended up coming in every day since he started. He’d left early, meaning 5pm, so the sun was still out, yet low in the sky as he stared out the window. 

The temperature was warmer than usual, and children, families, and couples were all taking advantage of the last bit of daylight. Especially couples. Iwaizumi saw one exceptionally old couple, hands intertwined as they sat huddled together on a small wooden bench and instinctively reached toward the back of his neck. He shuddered as soon as he realized what he was doing and yanked his hand back down firmly into his lap. 

It’d been this way for years now, but every so often the pangs in his chest would catch him off guard. He remembered the first time he saw the markings start to appear; he was ten years old, showering after a long day of collecting bugs in the woods. As he was rinsing the soap off his back he felt a line of bumps rising out of the nape of his neck. When he asked his mom to check it, assuming they were bug bites, she only smiled, tears welling in her eyes. When she began to tell him about love and soulmates he rolled his eyes, uninterested.

Two people destined to be together with matching patterns on their skin, a symbol of two lives completing each other, how boring to a ten year old. At first it sounded made up until he started noticing the people around him. One day his teacher wore her hair up and he saw a tiny spiral by her ear that slowly unwound with a single line trailing down to her shoulder. He even saw it on his parents. His mother reached up into a tall cabinet and he saw what looked like a fragmented checkerboard on her stomach, peeking out the top of her high-waisted pants. His father had the same design on his right ankle, almost always sheathed by his dress socks. 

Over time, Iwaizumi’s line of bumps formed an intricate mandala like pattern from the base of his neck tapering to a point at the edge of his hairline. In high school girls would always comment on how pretty and unique his marking was, but this often came with an edge of disappointment as they lacked a perfect match. That isn’t to say Iwaizumi didn’t date, or that dating didn’t happen. He was a good-looking guy and so many people didn’t meet their soulmates until later in life, therefore teenage years were a good time to practice, so to speak. There was just always a fleeting air to these trysts; unless you had a match the relationship had an expiration date. 

By college dating hit a peak in frequency for most, quickly falling out of fashion in favor of soulmate search match ups by senior year. But for Iwaizumi it was different. The second semester of his freshman year, Iwaizumi noticed something strange as he showered. While rinsing his hair he noticed the mark on his neck felt lower, farther away from his hairline, the ridges and bumps were less pronounced. When he got out of the shower he checked in the mirror and sure enough the lines weren’t as dark, as if they had faded on his skin. At first he thought nothing of it, but over the course of a week the mark faded and shrank until all he could feel were the five bumps in a line he felt when he was ten.

After some research, Iwaizumi learned it wasn’t uncommon for people to lose their markings. It was fairly common, actually, but not among college students. The primary age group with marking loss was the over 65 demographic with other groups having varying levels of occurrence. It made sense though, because your marking would naturally fade away once your soulmate died, and older people, well, they were more likely to die. Nineteen year olds weren’t.

At first it didn’t bother Iwaizumi, the whole soulmate thing seemed kind of lame anyway. You didn't have a choice in who you loved? What was so appealing about that? But as his classmates and friends started to find their soulmates, coupling off into lifelong bliss, the reality started sinking in. 

His friends tried to comfort him; his mother even told him that he could still live a fulfilling life without a soulmate, her words cutting him deeper as her voice cracked when she said plenty of people never had children. What hit him the hardest was when his dad sat down next to him and wordlessly patted him on the back, his hand resting on his shoulder until the two of them were crying. Did it even make sense to mourn the loss of someone you never even met?

But that was six years ago, Iwaizumi had moved on, right? He had started a career with a growing company, he’d moved to one of the most beautiful and historically imbued places in Japan, he’d make a life for himself on his own, for himself, with his own will, no soulmate necessary. 

“Excuse me, could you please scoot over?”

The sing-song voice snapped Iwaizumi out of his droning train of thought. When he looked up he saw a tall, athletic-looking man with perfectly styled brown hair and the fakest smile he’d ever seen. There was something about his tone, his pose—and the fact that there were plenty of other open seats—that pissed Iwaizumi off.

“Why?”

“Thank you ve—“ the man’s speech cut off, his eyes opened wide, confused. He blinked a few times before continuing. “What did you—what?”

“Why should I scoot over?” Iwaizumi growled. The man pursed his lips and drew his eyebrows in confusion, standing, Iwaizumi noticed, way too close. He was practically hovering. Iwaizumi wanted to hit him. 

“Because I want to sit there?” it ended like a question, not a statement, another thing that pissed Iwaizumi off. 

“Do you? Do you want to sit here?”

“Yes?” the question tone again.

“You don’t sound very sure,” Iwaizumi heard his voice growing louder without his consent.

“Well, you’re freaking me out!” the man balled his fists and stomped like a child. He was starting to make a scene.

“There are three open chairs right over there, why don’t you sit in one of them?”

“Because this bench has the view of the pretty cherry blossom trees,” the man trailed off but quickly came back with renewed confidence “That’s why you wanted to sit here, isn’t it?”

Iwaizumi felt his hand draw up into a fist on instinct. Why was this guy so persistent about a seat, why did he have to sing every word, why did he have that huge fake smile plastered on his stupid face! But Iwaizumi realized he was getting carried away--and he noticed the two other harried businessmen staring at him and his adversary--so he decided to let it go.

“Fine, do whatever you want.” Iwaizumi uncrossed his legs and scooted over begrudgingly.

“Thank you very much!” the man finished his sentence with the same sing-song tone as before, drawing out the final syllable before sitting down next to an obviously fuming Iwaizumi.

The man hummed to himself tunelessly—and he was clearly tone deaf, Iwaizumi noted— before speaking again.

“You know, it’s rude to hog a whole bench when you’re sitting on it alone.”

Iwaizumi’s head snapped around. “What?”

The man didn’t answer; instead he went back to humming while looking wistfully out the window. Iwaizumi was still staring at him incredulously when he spoke again.

“It’s true what they say, Kyoto has the best cherry blossoms.”

“We’re in Nagaoka.”

The man turned smiling bigger, but still not genuinely. “It’s close enough!”

Iwaizumi was seriously considering getting up and sitting elsewhere when he spoke yet again.

“Back home it’s still too cold for the flowers to bloom, April doesn’t really feel like spring there.”

This hit Iwaizumi in a sentimental spot, and it annoyed him. Reluctantly he chimed in. “Same here.”

The man opened his eyes wide once again, this time excitedly. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Wakuya, it’s near—“

“I know where that is! I’m from Natori!” His wide smile reformed. “You don’t have to use Sendai as a landmark with me.”

Ooh, now they were bonding. Iwaizumi felt his temperature spike. He glanced over at his dryer, in three minutes he’d have an excuse to leave, he’d be free.

“Isn’t it the best in Miyagi during the summer? I hear it’s going to be rough here, lots of sweating.”

Iwaizumi grunted, not wanting the conversation to continue. If the man noticed, which Iwaizumi highly suspected he did, he disregarded it. 

“I just moved here and it’s been an adjustment, and I’m from a city, it must be really hard for you being a country boy and all.”

It was his tone, or the mocking way he basically called Iwaizumi a hick—it had to be that—or maybe this guy was actually Satan, but Iwaizumi couldn’t hold back anymore and his fist has forced its way into the man’s shoulder before he knew what had happened. The man squawked in response.

“You hit me!”

“I’m—I’m so sorry!”

“You hit me! I don’t even know you! I don’t even know your name and you just punched me—“

“Iwaizumi.” 

The man’s dramatic wailing stopped. His body slowly unfurled from the tight fetal position he snapped into during his performance, but he still gingerly held on to the assaulted shoulder. 

“Is that your whole name,” he asked flatly.

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” Iwaizumi didn’t offer his hand, or change his flat tone.

“I’m Oikawa Tooru,” the man replied, lifting his hand and extending it for a shake, “it’s nice to meet you!” 

As if on cue, Iwaizumi heard his dryer timer go off and he sprung off of the bench. He noticed how his muscles tensed and how this Oikawa guy was sitting much closer than he needed to, with a good six inches remaining on his other side. 

Oikawa’s hand still hung in the air, waiting for a shake. It was large with long fingers, and looked surprisingly strong when Iwaizumi lifted his own hand beside it. Iwaizumi took it briskly, giving it a quick, firm, maybe too firm, shake before turning away. 

“No, no it is not nice to meet you,” Iwaizumi mumbled to himself, hurrying off to the dryer trying to ignore his suddenly racing heart and the smooth, soft warmth of Oikawa’s hand.


	2. On Radishes and Cults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While drudging home from work, Iwaizumi has another encounter with Oikawa Tooru. He leaves the train thinking that he may or may not have been newly initiated into a cult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here begins my assault of (not really) subtle reference jokes.

The rain fell in droves, creating the perfect droning background noise in Sakusa & Associates. Iwaizumi went to sip his third cup of coffee to find his mug empty, he sighed contemplating getting yet another refill.

He couldn’t sleep at all the night before. All he could do was lay in bed, running his fingers over the line on his neck wondering if he’d made the right decision moving here. Why did he have to be so aggressively independent? He didn’t used to be this way and he left his stable job, his home, and his family to bet his career on word-of-mouth. “Sakusa & Associates are going to revolutionize the gaming industry.” Good thing game designers still needed relatively experienced sales teams.

What really bothered him was how he really just wanted someone to talk to about all these feelings and tell him what to do, or that he was an idiot, or just something different than his endless train of thought. Any interruption would do.

And that’s when he remembered that guy at the Laundromat, Oikawa. The regret and shame washed over Iwaizumi, further preventing any possibility of sleep. Sure the guy was a little gaudy and dramatic, but he didn’t have to overreact like that. Iwaizumi used to pride himself on being rather levelheaded but this guy, this Oikawa guy, he caught him off-guard. He’d been so stressed out from work and he just needed to decompress and this guy just comes along, clearly provoking him with that fake smile. Why would you smile when you don’t mean it! And why did that bother Iwaizumi so much?

Still, he had no reason to punch him, even if it was kind of light and in the shoulder—no, no defending yourself, Iwaizumi cut off the thought by smashing his face into his pillow. He finally managed about three hours of sleep, but only after resolving to properly apologize to Oikawa the next time he saw him.

“Do you need more coffee, Iwaizumi-senpai?”

Iwaizumi lifted his face from his hands, which had been rubbing his eyes for a solid five minutes now. Kindaichi stood at full attention at his side, his eyebrows creased in what looked like either concern or fear. It was always hard to tell with Kindaichi.

“Yeah, I think so—but,” He interjected as his former classmate began to dash to the break room, “I can get it myself, I should probably stretch some any way.”

“Are you sure, Iwaizumi-senpai? You could stretch here and I could get it—or should you walk—or—“

“Kindaichi,” Iwaizumi smiled, shaking his head lightly. This kid hasn’t changed since he was fifteen. “I want to get it. We could go together if you want some too.”

“Yes! Of course!” Kindaichi turned in a flash, nearly knocking off all the papers off Iwaizumi’s desk in the process.

The two walked together down the white and grey hall past the receptionist, who gave Iwaizumi a noticeable up-down before they turned the corner. Kindaichi leaned forward excitedly.

“You’re already popular with Hana-san, Iwaizumi-senpai! I’m so jealous, she’s so cute!’

“Kindaichi, could you please stop calling me senpai?” Iwaizumi saw the flash of distress in his friend’s eyes and added the next part as quickly as he could muster. “It’s just that we’ve both just entered the company and here we’re equals,” he smiled, shrugging lightly “Plus, I’ve thought of us as equals for a long time now, so maybe—“

“Yes!” Kindaichi yelped, a light blush across his cheeks.

“But if you still want to call me senpai it’s okay, I mean you have been doing it since high school.”

“No—yes!” Now Kindaichi was confused, but Iwaizumi could see he just wanted to say the right thing, as always. After four years of college, in Tokyo of all places, he was still the same tall, stuttering radish.

Iwaizumi knew better than to ask him what he meant, so instead he just thanked him before holding the door for his workplace equal.

\-------------------------------

Ten hours later, Iwaizumi glanced at the time on the corner of his screen: 20:56. Another long day that somehow still seemed too short considering all the work he had to do. He could hear Kindaichi on the phone ordering some kind of food. He’d learned it wasn’t uncommon for the game designers to sleep at the office during beta testing weeks, but Iwaizumi couldn’t help but worry about the 22 year old overworking himself like a hardened salaryman.

Iwaizumi checked in on Kindaichi before heading out of the office. “You gonna be okay tonight?”

Kindaichi straightened up lethargically, yawning as he spoke “Yeah, it’s my night to get dinner so I know this time I’ll actually be able to eat it.”

“Kozume has that bad of taste in food?”

“Last time he just brought back convenience store food—and not even the food the junk food! Man, he must only be alive because his soul—“ Kindaichi cut himself off remembering Iwaizumi’s situation and quickly corrected himself “boyfriend is a chef.”

“Soulboyfriend? What’s that?” Iwaizumi couldn’t help but lightly mock him.

Kindaichi fumbled under the pressure, “It’s, it’s like soul food but a person like that you see romantically but it’s, um, it’s like—“

Iwaizumi laughed harder than he thought he could given his exhaustion, “Get some sleep tonight, Kindaichi. Good work today.” He knocked on the cubicle entrance for emphasis before leaving. He heard Kindaichi call back “Good night, Iwaizumi-senpa---NO!” Iwaizumi laughed again, rubbing his burning eyes into their sockets.

By the time he made it to the station, Iwaizumi had just missed the last express train. He checked the schedule between the tracks; the next train would arrive in three minutes, but it was a local. Iwaizumi sighed, he wanted to get home so he could maybe eat some dinner, but at least the train would be pretty empty and relaxing; there were hardly any other people on the platform as well.

The train finally pulled into the station and Iwaizumi stepped into the mostly empty car, sighing blissfully at the promise of resting his eyes on the night sky instead of white spreadsheets. Right as the doors were about to close, footsteps rushed onto the train accompanied by haggard breathing and a desperate yell.

“Wait for meee!” Iwaizumi, though he hadn’t heard it much, recognized the voice immediately.

Stepping inside just in time, running his fingers through his wind-mussed, yet still perfectly styled hair was Oikawa.

Oikawa stood by the door for a while regaining his breath and his composure, preening himself, before he noticed Iwaizumi sitting in the seat beside him.

As Iwaizumi opened his mouth to speak, Oikawa cut him off. “Are you going to inform me of the empty seats available on this train?” he sneered, essentially slapping Iwaizumi in the face with his words.

Iwaizumi felt his jaw click in annoyance, but he reminded himself of his own rude behavior the night before. “Good evening, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa hummed in response, sizing Iwaizumi up warily. “Oh, that’s so polite of you Iwaizumi-chan.”

Iwaizumi felt his body heat up once again, but he maintained his calm. “I wanted to apologize for the other night. It’s no excuse, but you caught me in kind of an off mood and I reacted poorly—“

“I could see you were in a bad mood that’s why I came over to talk to you.”

Iwaizumi opened his mouth but no words came out. Oikawa appraised him with his large brown eyes and Iwaizumi felt a chill run through his body when Oikawa finally laughed and walked over in front of him. “If I’d known you were going to punch me I would have sat by the tv.”

“I’m really sorry I punched you, it was so immature and—“

“Oh, Iwa-chan, don’t beat yourself up over it,” Oikawa plopped down next to Iwaizumi, “you’ve already done that enough to one of us.”

Damn it, that was kind of clever. And, wait, Iwa-chan?

Iwaizumi tried to keep a stern face but he felt a smirk breaking on his face “Oi, keep goading me like that and you’ll get it again, Oikawa-san.”

“Please,” Oikawa rolled his head back in exasperation, “drop the formalities, we’re about the same age. It’s not like I’m ‘Oikawa-senpai’.”

Iwaizumi didn’t fight the smile as he remembered his earlier conversation with Kindaichi. “So just Oikawa then?”

Oikawa smiled back at him, not as forced as the ones from last night but the expression still didn’t reach his eyes quite right. “I’d like that.”

The two men sat in silence for a beat before Oikawa started speaking again.

“So why were you so upset yesterday?”

Iwaizumi’s face flushed against his control, but Oikawa kept talking. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But if it’s something that has you so worked up that you’ll get violent in a laundromat I think it’s at least worth a conversation, don’t you?” his voice got all sing-song toward the end.

Iwaizumi took a deep breath and held it. He had been wrecked over wanting to talk about it with someone, but with Oikawa? He released the breath in one quick exhale and decided to give it a go. “I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing with my life.”

Oikawa’s eyebrows raised slightly, “Oh? Go on.”

“You see, I had another job before at my dad’s company and things were going well enough, I mean I’d practically grown up there so it was sort of a given I’d take over my dad’s position but I felt like I needed to do something alone and build my own future by myself but I didn’t really have any other reasoning than that and I moved all the way here with just that baseless determination—“ Iwaizumi stopped himself. He was rambling and hadn’t breathed. He didn’t even want to look at Oikawa, who he was sure would have a smug smirk on his stupid face.

“Are you worried that if you fail you’ll fail on your own?” Something in Oikawa’s tone drew Iwaizumi’s glance, but Oikawa’s expression remained serious and pensive. He continued his musings. “No, I don’t think that’s it, not entirely it anyway. You seem too…” He racked his brain for the right word “Stable?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Oh gee, thanks.”

Oikawa pouted in protest. “Well tell me the rest of it and maybe I can be more helpful!”

Iwaizumi clenched his fists before he spoke, “I don’t have a soulmate.” The woman seated across from them noticeably leaned forward in interest.

“And?”

“And what? My soulmate died when I was 19, now I’ll never get married, I’ll never have a family!”

Oikawa tilted his head in confusion. “Why not?”

Iwaizumi was getting frustrated again, was this guy mocking him after he told him something so personal? “Who am I going to marry? Someone else whose soulmate died and is desperate to settle down?”

“Oh, so you’re a romantic.” The words were barely audible, as if Oikawa were speaking to himself. Iwaizumi wasn’t sure he’d heard him clearly when Oikawa spoke up, louder this time. “Did you know them? Your soulmate?”

Iwaizumi blinked a few times. “N-no.”

“Then how do you know they were really your soulmate?”

Okay, this guy had to be fucking with him now.

Iwaizumi spoke through gritted teeth. “My marking started fading a few years ago—“

“Do you really think a matching tattoo is what decides a lifelong relationship?” Oikawa’s eyes had flattened, he looked so serious Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if he was really the same person as the bubbly, sing-talking man from before. “Tell me something, Iwa-chan, have you ever dated anyone?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Did you like the people you dated?”

“Yes.”

“If you didn’t have this pre-destined lover waiting in the wings, so to speak, would you have dated some of those people longer? Maybe even considered living together or getting married?”

Iwaizumi had never thought of that. “I don’t know. Maybe this one guy—“ He cut himself off, embarrassed at what he’d just said. He saw the corner of Oikawa’s mouth twitch up almost into a smile.

“Ooh, so Iwa-chan experimented in his early youth?”

Iwaizumi blushed again. “Shut up! What are you getting at any way?”

“What I’m ‘getting at’ is that I think it’s entirely possible to fall in love with someone and want to spend your life with them without having a foolproof guarantee.”

“Okay, so even if it is possible how are you going to convince someone not to wait around for their soulmate? Unless they’re in my situation.”

Oikawa smirked devilishly, “It’s easy if you know where to look.”

Iwaizumi reeled back a little instinctively, furrowing his brow suspiciously. “Are you trying to get me to join a cult or something?”

Oikawa jumped back in surprise, his face screwing up in exaggerated horror. “No! How dare you accuse me of something like that?”

“Well this sounds crazy and your face looked sinister.”

Oikawa turned his face upward and away from Iwaizumi, crossing his arms offended. “Hmph. My face never looks any way other than pure and genteel.”

“I met you yesterday and I know that’s not even a little true.”

Oikawa whipped his head around. “Do you want me to help you or not!”

“Fine. Where do I look?”

The smirk reformed on Oikawa’s face, now more smug than sly. “You can look in the Unmarked community.”

Iwaizumi squinted his eyes skeptically, “Are you sure that’s not a cult?”

“Okay, I admit the name needs a little work, but it’s not a cult, it’s more like…” Oikawa scrunched his face in thought, pouting his lips, which Iwaizumi noticed were rather full and pink, not that it mattered. “Counter-culture? Or sub-culture? Anyway, there are people in this world who don’t like the idea that we’re destined to be with one person outside of our control. We should be able to choose who we love.”

“Are you part of this non-cult community or something?”

Oikawa looked away almost shyly, smirking again as he rolled up his sleeve. “I guess it should be pretty obvious.”

He revealed his forearm to Iwaizumi, who was taken aback immediately. From the crook of his elbow extending down to the middle of his arm his smooth skin appeared mottled with a mix of grays, whites, and tans, as if he’d been tattooed with television static. Iwaizumi could only stare, trying to process the image in front of him. It could almost be a marking, but it wasn’t detailed enough; it was too blurry and freeform to ever find a perfect match.

“It’s hard to find a doctor who will do a proper skin graft,” Oikawa murmured, still looking away as Iwaizumi glanced up to meet his eyes. “And it’s expensive. Tattoo artists can only do so much to totally obscure the image.”

“Why would you do something like this?” The words left Iwaizumi’s mouth much harsher than he intended. But Oikawa’s eyes met his with unprecedented intensity, Iwaizumi almost visibly shuddered as the chocolate brown irises pierced his own, the pupils shrunken to the size of pinpricks.

“I’m going to control my fate, nobody else. Just me.”

The tension hung heavy over the train car until interrupted by a cellphone. The woman seated across from Iwaizumi and Oikawa yelped, startled as she too had been embroiled in the conversation. She sheepishly apologized and answered her phone.

Oikawa chuckled lightly. “I know it’s unorthodox, but believe it or not, I’m happier this way, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t bring himself to speak, he was too uncertain of what the tightness in his stomach was all about. The train slowed to a stop, announcing they had arrived in Nagaoka. The two stood in unison, and damn it, Oikawa was slightly taller.

“If you’re ever curious,” Oikawa reached smoothly into his back pocket and pulled out a business card, “give me a call. We could meet for drinks and talk it over.”

Iwaizumi took the card stepping off as the doors closed directly behind him. The card felt tastefully thick, for some reason bringing Patrick Bateman to mind. But as he saw Oikawa’s softened eyes, sparkling somehow in the fluorescent lighting, all accusations of sociopathy dissipated.  
“I will.”

“Good to hear! I know some great spots uptown, we’ll work through your problems in no time!”

Oikawa waved, his overly big smile stretching across his face, but less tight than before. Iwaizumi found himself waving back as Oikawa turned on his heel and left for the east exit. His right hand reached up to the back of his neck unthinkingly as he looked at the card one more time: “Oikawa Tooru. Horikawa Academy. Science Teacher.”


	3. Iwa-chan and Shittykawa Meet Up For Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi and his new friend, no, acquaintance, make plans to make plans. Thank God there's alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter is getting longer and longer, hopefully that's a good thing. More characters and more feelings coming up.

Iwaizumi leaned back in his chair lifting it on to the back wheels, stretching his back. The pops sounding from his body drew the attention of his cubicle mate.

 

“Iwaizumi, you really need to do some physical therapy. When you’re an old man I feel like your body will collapse like one of those wooden doll toys.” He mimed the action for emphasis.

 

“Shut up, Hanamaki.” Iwaizumi could see the lazy smirk spreading across his face before he turned away.

 

Hanamaki stood up, stretching silently before walking over and leaning on the corner of Iwaizumi’s desk. “Oi, are you going to get lunch with us today or are you still married to Microsoft Excel?”

 

“Maybe if you and Matsukawa didn’t insist on eating at the same ramen place every day.”

 

“It’s the best in the city,” Hanamaki shrugged, ruffling his light reddish-brown hair. “If you want to go other places, we can look some up.”

 

Iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow. “And who grew up here?”

 

Hanamaki threw up his hands in defense “Mattsun was the one born here, I’ve only lived here since college.”

 

“Still, in six years you’ve only managed to find one decent ramen shop?”

 

“It’s Mattsun’s favorite, I liked it, and I didn’t feel the need to shop around more,” he stood and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing without looking. “I know you’re a bit of a romantic, Iwaizumi, why don’t you explore the city, get lost in the rain…” he trailed off holding the phone up to his ear. “Ah, Mattsun, are you on your lunch break yet?”

 

When he first met Hanamaki, Iwaizumi thought the two of them wouldn’t get along. Hanamaki seemed weirdly quiet, but in a way that seemed like he was mocking you, like he observed and made jokes to himself. It was true to an extent, he was a bit of a snarky bastard, but he was also a genuinely good guy and Iwaizumi felt lucky to have him as a cubicle partner. At their first lunch as together with Hanamaki’s soulmate, Matsukawa, Iwaizumi thought the giant, stern-looking man seemed too serious to match Hanamaki’s conniving personality. But by the end of the meal Iwaizumi had learned that Hanamaki was the more reserved one in the relationship, and that the two of them together were a duo of unstoppable mischief. Too much mischief for Iwaizumi to handle this week.

 

After Hanamaki stepped out on his phone call, Iwaizumi checked the clock in the corner of his screen. It seemed like a good time to break for lunch and his stomach growled in affirmation. Kindaichi and the rest of the programmers had been on lockdown since Thursday and the guys in marketing were pretty tight-knit and exclusive, so today he was on his own.

 

He picked up his usual solo lunch from the convenience store down the block, tonkatsu rice and a black coffee. When he went to pay he saw the off-white strip peeking out at him from the card slots in his wallet.

 

Should he call Oikawa Tooru? It’d been over a week since he saw him on the train, plus he’d made the express every night since, successfully evading another encounter. But it wasn’t like he was avoiding him, was he? Some of the things he was saying about his, what was it, subculture seemed crazy but there was also his intensity when he spoke about it. Iwaizumi got chills just thinking about it.

 

Still, in all honesty, Iwaizumi felt better after talking to him. Hell, he actually got a good night’s sleep in. And the guy did seem surprisingly genuine when he said he wanted to help Iwaizumi with his problems. Maybe he should call him.

 

Iwaizumi pulled out the card and went to dial when he was stopped. “Horikawa Academy. Science Teacher.” He looked at his watch. Yep, it was definitely still during school hours. Instead he could just text him, right? That way Oikawa could answer when he had time and Iwaizumi could work on getting the wording just right—not that it mattered. He sighed as he opened up the messaging app and started typing.

 

>>[Iwaizumi]: Oikawa, it’s Iwaizumi. I want to take you up on your offer to get drinks if it’s still available.

 

Send. Three revisions wasn’t too ridiculous. Iwaizumi was shocked when he got a response before he made it back to the office.

 

>>[Oikawa]: Iwa-chan!!! Of course we can get drinks! Does tonight work for you?

 

Tonight, huh? That was quick.

 

>>[Iwaizumi]: Oi, isn’t it during class hours?

 

The next reply came even faster than the first.

 

>>[Oikawa]: Isn’t it during business hours? ;p

 

Iwaizumi squinted at the phone. What grown man used emoticons? Though he suspected it was a taunt, he let himself fall for it anyway. Now back in the break room, he popped his food in the microwave before sending the next text.

 

>>[Oikawa]: Oh, so you’re free to talk then?

 

Reading it back it didn’t sound quite as threatening as he wanted, but Iwaizumi sent it anyway.

 

Instead of a message alert, this time Iwaizumi’s phone actually rang. He swallowed hard before checking the caller. Yep. Oikawa Tooru.

 

He tried to answer as level-headed as possible.

 

“Iwaizumi.”

 

“I know it’s you, Iwa-chan,” his voice seemed to sing in Iwaizumi’s ear, “Did you forget we were talking or are you one of those old-fashioned types with out a smartphone?” He gasped lightly. "Or maybe you haven't saved my number in your phone!?"

 

Iwaizumi’s jaw clenched. “What do you want, Oikawa?”

 

“You were the one who asked me to talk, remember?” Shit, he was right. Now Iwaizumi looked both desperate and foolish.

 

“How do you have time to talk when you’re at school?”

 

He could hear Oikawa’s face morphing into a taunting sneer. “How do you have time when you’re also at work?”

 

“I’m on my lunch break.”

 

“Well, what do you know, teachers have lunch breaks too!” Iwaizumi felt his face get hot when he heard Oikawa’s flitting laugh on the other end.

 

“Where do you want to meet tonight?”

 

“There’s a pretty nice bar I went to last weekend down 5-chome, by the mall. Good specials, cute bartenders. Or if you want to grab dinner too there’s an excellent ramen place on Kawaramachi.”

 

“I’ve only been to the ramen shop in the alley behind teramachi—“

 

“Ooh, I’ve been there! It’s pretty good, but I like this other place more,” Iwaizumi smiled a little. “Or if you want we can try somewhere totally new! An adventure for both of us!”

 

Iwaizumi fiddled with the lid of his lunch with this free hand. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden?

 

“The place on Kawaramachi is fine.”

 

“Good!” Iwaizumi heard a woman’s voice in the background. ‘Oikawa-sensei’ had an oddly nice ring to it. “Could you excuse me for a moment, Iwa-chan?”

 

“No, no, it’s fine, I should probably go anyway. What time do you want to meet?”

 

“Let’s meet at the Kawaramachi station at… eight?” Oikawa’s voice lowered teasingly. “Or is that too early for a salaryman?”

 

“Eight is fine, I’ll see you then.” Iwaizumi hung up the phone and set it face down on the break room table. His heart was beating erratically; he loosened his tie and undid the top button to help himself cool off. This is why you shouldn't open up your personal life to strangers.

 

“Something bothering you, Iwaizumi-san?”

 

Iwaizumi’s head shot up to see Kunimi standing in the doorway. “No, I’m fine.”

 

“You seem flustered,” Kunimi’s face, perpetually disinterested, lifted slightly “New girlfriend?”

 

Iwaizumi’s whole body flushed. “No, that’s not even—I thought all the programmers were on lockdown!”

 

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “but I didn’t want to be in there anymore.” He turned, giving Iwaizumi a once over, “it’s a bit more interesting in here, that’s for sure.” He returned to his work, leaving Iwaizumi stammering and furious.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

Kawaramachi station was buzzing with activity by the time Iwaizumi arrived. It was a Friday night and the unseasonal rain earlier in the week left the air cool and pleasant. Iwaizumi could spot more than a few other businessmen sneaking out to enjoy themselves. Not that Iwaizumi was going to enjoy himself; he was just meeting a man, a friend, no, an acquaintance to talk about insanely personal problems over drinks.

 

At least that’s what he reminded himself over and over again when he saw Oikawa coming up the escalator from the subway platform, with his stupidly good hair, and his stupid face that was actually kind of gorgeous when he wasn’t gawking like a bird or wearing his gaudy fake smile. And that overly tight, forced grin made its appearance as soon as Oikawa made eye contact with Iwaizumi.

 

“Yoohoo, Iwa-chan!” Oh god, how obnoxious. He didn’t seem to mind the stares he garnered by yelling across heavy weeknight traffic. Actually, he looked like he thrived on it.

 

Oikawa finally stopped waving and calling out when he reached Iwaizumi, who slapped his hand out of the air, extracting a yelp in response. “Oi, Oikawa, can you drop the nickname already?”

 

“Hmm,” Oikawa pursed his lips, pretending to be deep in thought, nursing his slapped hand. “Nope! Too late, I’m afraid!”

 

“Whatever. How far away is this place? I’m starving.”

 

“It’s only about five blocks north of here,” Oikawa smiled again, closing his eyes and crinkling his nose in a way he must have thought looked cute and endearing “but if you’re too hungry, Iwa-chan, we can stop for a snack, just don't spoil your dinner”

 

Iwaizumi walked off, making sure to check Oikawa with his shoulder as he departed “If you keep up the nasty personality I’m eating without you, Shittykawa.”

 

The entire walk to the restaurant consisted of Oikawa animatedly and desperately trying to fight off his new nickname, much to Iwaizumi’s amusement. Oikawa’s hands flew off in dramatic flourishes with each lament in ways that may have hit fellow pedestrians were they not keeping an eye on him. He attracted attention so effortlessly that it was hard not to look at Oikawa. At least that explanation sounded better than admitting he was easy to look at.

 

Once they arrived at the restaurant, Oikawa ordered a bottle of sake for the two of them “as a reward for all of our hard work,” he brandished the sentence with a wink that sent the waitress off blushing bright red. Iwaizumi didn’t know whether to roll his eyes or hit Oikawa in the back of the head, but he was starting to grow wary of his increasingly violent tendencies.

 

Oikawa set down his menu and sighed, taking on an air of formality, “Now, Iwa-chan-san,” Iwaizumi had to bite his cheek to rein in a slap, “we’re here today to discuss your potential return to the dating scene—“

 

“I never said that,” Iwaizumi interjected, thankful that the lively atmosphere probably kept others from overhearing.

 

“So you’re not interested in hearing about your dating options?” His eyelids lowered, his head cocking up “Did you just want to get me alone with alcohol involved?”

 

Iwaizumi buried his head in his hands. “For the love of God, Oikawa, if you don’t start taking this seriously—“

 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Iwaizumi glanced up; the mocking sneer had vanished from Oikawa’s face, replaced by genuine remorse. “I know this is hard for you, I was trying to lighten the mood. But we’ll stick to what’s important,” at that moment the sake arrived just in time to help settle the mood. After a couple shots both of the men felt much more relaxed.

 

“So, what questions do you have for me?”

 

Iwaizumi bit his lip briefly, but the sake was already starting to dismantle his apprehension. “Do all of these people feel like you do, about just, you know, not wanting to—“

 

“Everyone has their own reasons. Some people are like me and feel stubbornly rebellious regarding their free will. Others have experienced a degree of loss, like you, some are in open relationships with their soulmates, others are apathetic about the whole dating and romance thing—“

 

“Wait, wait, open relationships? Like they and—they’re with their soulmate and they both still date other people?”

 

Oikawa nodded. “It’s a big world out there, Iwa-chan, you’d be surprised at how many options there really are.”

 

“So, hypothetically,” Iwaizumi avoided Oikawa’s now intensely lucid gaze. “what kind of options are there for me. Hypothetically.”

 

“Well, we could always go on a double date and see how you feel.”

 

Iwaizumi’s chest swelled, his nerves instantly racking up again. “Woah, woah, wait Oika—“

 

“No, really, there’s this guy I’ve been seeing, he’s really fun and laid-back, he’d be the perfect tension diffuser for a first date. Sometimes he can be a little too ‘let’s party!’ at times but…” Oikawa kept on with his sales pitch but Iwaizumi was distracted by the new hollowness in his chest. _This guy I’ve been seeing_. It makes sense that he’s dating, that is kind of the whole point as to why Iwaizumi is meeting with him. And besides, Iwaizumi knew he wasn’t interested in being anything more than friends with Oikawa Tooru, and right now they weren’t even that. _Just acquaintances_ , he thought to himself again. A silence fell over the table and soon he noticed Oikawa wasn’t speaking anymore.

 

“I’m sorry, what?”

 

“I asked do you think that’s something you’d be comfortable with.”

 

“Oh, um, maybe.”

 

“I really do think you should give it a shot, Iwa-chan. And there’s no pressure to commit, if you decide that dating really isn’t right for you now, or ever, you can back out.” His eyes went soft and glistening like they had the night at the train station. “Remember, it’s all about you finding what makes you happy.”

 

“I think… I’ll do it” Iwaizumi knew he was going to regret this decision later, especially after Oikawa nearly jumped out of his seat in excitement.

 

“Yay! Iwa-chan, I’m so happy you want to go through with it! Okay, now all we have to do now is find a good date for you and I’ll take care of the rest.”

 

Iwaizumi opened his mouth ready to protest, but Oikawa cut him off. “Now, would you prefer a man or a woman?”

 

“What?”

 

“Well we both know that you swing both ways. Maybe a man would be better so that way there’s no gender imbalance, however it could work in your favor if it looks like you’re the only hetero at the table since a gay man might be swayed by me or yuu-chan…”

 

“Shut up, Shittykawa!”

 

“I told you to stop with that nickname!”  

 

Iwaizumi was about to throw his chopsticks at Oikawa, who was hiding behind his menu shouting insults about Iwaizumi’s unflattering hair, when the waitress showed up with the ramen. Both men regained their composure, bowed in thanks, and began eating civilly.

 

“You know,” Iwaizumi spoke with mouth half-full between slurps, “I was kind of surprised to find out that you were a teacher since you come off as such a flamboyant prick,” He ignored Oikawa’s whining rebuttals. “But, you’re really trying to help me out and you care about people making their own decisions and doing their own thing, I don't know, now it makes sense. You seem like you’d be a pretty good teacher.”

 

Iwaizumi looked up and smiled but Oikawa’s face was blank, a light blush dusted across his nose and cheeks, but that might have been the sake. He ruffled the back of his hair and looked away, waving off the compliment, “Ha, stop, stop, I’m not that great. You know what they say, those who can’t do teach.”

 

The words had a biting edge to them, it reminded Iwaizumi of that painfully fake smile: the smile that sprang into action right after the words left Oikawa’s lips.

 

“You’re a businessman, right Iwa-chan? Shouldn’t you be able to act like an adult and avoid childish, violent outbursts?”

 

Iwaizumi didn’t yell like Oikawa wanted, though honestly he wanted to as well. Instead he called the waitress over while Oikawa watched with piqued interest.

 

“I’d like to order a round of sake bombs for the room, everyone, including the staff. Put it on the tab for Oikawa Tooru.” This time Oikawa was the one who started yelling.


	4. Drunks and Double Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa's planned debut for Iwaizumi's return to the dating scene is tonight, but the coupling needs some adjustments...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More shameless reference jokes, because I have no shame. Also, thank you to ConesOfDunshire for letting me use some separate au headcanons in this work. We all love dancers here.

The phone in his pants dinged yet again alerting Iwaizumi to the tenth—or was it the eleventh now—unanswered message within thirty minutes. He growled slightly in irritation pulling out his phone and shoving it into his briefcase. He didn't need to read them, Oikawa had been texting him about the same inane things every day for the last week.

 

“Sounds like someone’s sweating your nuts over there.”

 

Iwaizumi’s brows flew upward. “Huh?”

 

“Your hotline has been blinging all week now, non-stop.” Hanamaki swiveled his seat, “You have to tell me who it is and give me all the dirty details, unless it really is Drake, he deserves to keep his private life private.”

 

“It’s not Drake,” Iwaizumi felt ashamed hearing his voice come out like an indignant child.

 

“Who then, that teacher guy?” Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. Hanamaki’s face bloomed like a flower “Oh shit, did you bag yourself a little sensei roleplay?”

 

“Shut up, it’s not like that, Oikawa’s just this guy who lives in my town.” It sounded weak. “Plus I’m not interested in bagging any… thing like that.”

 

“You can’t lie to me, Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki leaned back, licking his lips in satisfaction. “My gaydar is unparalleled. I’d peg you at a four, maybe four and a half on the Kinsey scale.

 

Iwaizumi didn’t get the chance to argue as his phone started ringing, somehow announcing Hanamaki’s victory. He gritted his teeth and yanked the phone up to his ear without looking.

 

“Don’t you have class to teach?”

 

“You won’t answer me and we have really important things to discuss before tonight!”

 

Iwaizumi clicked his tongue, wishing he could somehow thump Oikawa’s head through the phone.

 

“We’ve already discussed the location, time, and agenda for the meeting,” he tried to use vague business jargon but it didn’t deter Hanamaki’s leering. “What else needs to be settled?”

 

“What are you gonna wear?”

 

“Pants,” he scrunched his face and turned farther into his corner when Hanamaki snorted behind him.

 

“Well those will only stay on for half the night if we’re lucky.” With how loud Hanamaki starts cackling, Iwaizumi swore he could somehow hear the other end of the conversation. “But really, you could go for the haggard businessman look if you want, it works for you. But that won’t be case the case tonight, I’m afraid. I’m going all out.”

 

Iwaizumi felt his ears heating up. Hanamaki’s loud protests followed him all the way to the bathroom as he locked himself away. “I thought you wanted me to be comfortable tonight.”

 

“I do! That’s why I’m checking all the details to make sure everything is perfect!”

 

“Well maybe if you’d stop focusing on the details you’d notice how much your harassment is freaking me out!”

 

Silence on the other end.

 

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa’s voice was much quieter than before. “I guess I’m also just excited. I really like the idea of going on a date with you, Iwa-chan.”

 

Ah, that tightness in Iwaizumi’s chest struck again. He swore Oikawa phrased things like that on purpose. He had to know what he was doing, because at least that’d mean one of them would know what was happening to Iwaizumi, because he sure as hell didn’t.

 

“I was planning on coming straight from the office,” Iwaizumi sighed in defeat, “and today I wore black slacks and a blue button-down. There’s a tie too, but I’ll ditch that on the way.”

 

“What kind of blue?” There was an odd sense of urgency in Oikawa’s voice.

 

“I don’t know, like a blueish blue?”

 

“Is it green-based like teal or more purple like periwinkle or grayish like a light cobalt—“

 

“Jesus Christ, Oikawa, are you a fucking spokesman for Crayola?”

 

“Can you just look and tell me, please?”

 

“I guess…” Iwaizumi moved his arm in and out of the light to get a better gauge, “like maybe the last one, kind of grayish?”

 

“Good,” Oikawa drew out the word, breathy and relieved, “That’s perfect, it’ll bring out your eyes.”

 

Iwaizumi felt the chest tightness again and made every effort to fight it off. “How did you get out of class to call me?”

 

“I told them I needed a bathroom break.” He sounded pleased with himself.

 

“You’ve been gone so long they probably think you’re taking a shit.” Iwaizumi reveled in the spiral of hysterics erupting on the other end.

 

\---------------------------------------- 

 

It took Iwaizumi a few failed guesses to pick the correct hidden staircase to reach the Izakaya place Oikawa made reservations for. Apparently the “adorable little place off Sanjo” meant the place above the phone store between Baskin Robbins and a Pachinko parlor. When the door shut behind him on the fourth floor, the dull bass from Pachinko all but dissipated.

 

This place was pretty nice. The walls were painted dark enough to match the sleek wooden furniture, and the dim lighting softened the stark, clean lines of the modern motif. A few tall stalks of bamboo next to the hostess station provided the only bright color in the room. Iwaizumi made his way over to the smiling woman at the stand.

 

“Good evening, sir, are you here to open a room or join a party?”

 

“I’m here with the Oikawa party,” the words fell off his tongue awkwardly.

 

The woman’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Of course, right this way.”

 

Iwaizumi noticed the sudden change in the hostess’s demeanor, but he couldn’t quite reason it. She led him down the hallway of private rooms until they reached the final room on the right. Iwaizumi could hear two unfamiliar voices engaging in some sort of argument punctuated by the bell-like laugh that he thought shouldn’t feel so familiar.

 

The hostess knocked lightly and slid the door open. She bowed at Iwaizumi before making a quick departure.

 

“Iwa-chaaan! You’re late!” He leaned back too far, bumping his head on the solid exterior wall. Oikawa had clearly started drinking already.

 

“That’s because you gave me lousy directions, shittykawa,” Iwaizumi quickly slipped off his shoes and stepped through the screen door, closing it behind him.

 

“Mean!” Oikawa whined, “You’re so mean, Iwa-chan!”

 

“Hey now, all these pet names are starting to make me feel jealous,” Iwaizumi locked eyes with the man seated next to Oikawa. His hair was styled in a fresh, severe undercut. His large almond eyes danced in the low-lit room, playful but also defiant. The guy was good-looking, Iwaizumi would give him that, but something about him was uneasy. He slung his arm around Oikawa’s shoulders, swiping his tongue across his lips. Was that a piercing?

 

“Yuu-chan, you’re so cute when you’re insecure! And so feisty.” The man shifted, cocking an eyebrow, and Oikawa stifled a small gasp. Iwaizumi desperately wanted to push away the theories flooding his brain.

 

“And so grating,” a smooth voice sounded from the other side of the small room. Iwaizumi looked over to see a cleaner, less alternative looking man lording judgment across the table.  

 

“Bite me, Kenji,” He leaned across the table for emphasis. “Hard.”

 

“Oh, you two, stop it,” Oikawa giggled again, pink in the cheeks. How much did he have to drink? He was already far past where he was last week, and there was a decent amount of sake involved. “Iwa-chan. This handsome man next to me is Terushima Yuuji. The handsome man hiding his beauty behind a nasty bitch-face is Futakuchi Kenji, your date for tonight!”

 

Iwaizumi bowed slightly, starting to wish he’d given up on Oikawa’s vague directions and just bought ice cream next door. “Nice to meet you. Iwaizumi Hajime.”

 

“Ooh, all business, down to the attire,” Terushima jerked his body to attention, bowing deeply, his voice overly serious to the point of mocking. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, Iwaizumi-san.”

 

Futakuchi rolled his eyes. “You’re just upset because it takes so much effort for you look half as hot as Iwaizumi does fresh from the office.”

 

“Said the man who just whined about needing to get a facial.”

 

“Hey, hey,” Oikawa interjected, “Not everyone can be as naturally gorgeous as me or Iwa-chan.” He ran his hands through his silky hair for emphasis and winked at Iwaizumi who suddenly felt like the flustered waitress from the ramen shop.

 

“What kind of alcohol do we have so far,” Iwaizumi gestured to the glasses and bottles on the table, directing the conversation away from any reference to attractive men.

 

“Sit down here and I’ll show you,” Futakuchi flashed an easy smile and patted the cushion next to him.

 

Iwaizumi cautiously slumped down next to him, keeping his eyes glued to the table.

 

“Don’t be shy, I don’t bite unless asked,” his easy smile didn’t falter which only made Iwaizumi more uncomfortable.

 

“Be easy on Iwa-chan, he hasn’t had nearly as much to drunk as the rest of us,” Oikawa’s words slurred over the top of his nearly empty glass.

 

Futakuchi’s eyebrows shot up, his eyes and smile widened, “To drunk?”

 

“Tooru, no one in this building has had as much to drink as you,” Terushima took the glass from Oikawa’s hands and kissed him full on the mouth before he could argue. Iwaizumi didn’t notice Futakuchi glancing over at him and quickly looking away.

 

“In fact, Iwaizumi hasn’t had anything to drink yet,” Futakuchi reached over and brought the menu to Iwaizumi. “Everything we’ve ordered so far has been fruity sake and cocktails, and those don’t strike me as something you’d like.”

 

“No, I want whiskey,” Iwaizumi still hadn’t looked up from the table. This was so forced; this was such a mistake.

“Whiskey? How appropriately manly,” Futakuchi leaned over, brushing Iwaizumi’s shoulder as he rang the call button. A waitress appeared almost immediately.

 

“Yes, what can I get for you?” She seemed annoyed; as if she was already sick of this room from the forty minutes she’d been assigned to it. Gauging from the empty glasses and Oikawa’s behavior, she’d probably been back in here far too many times.

 

“Yes, could we please get a whiskey, double—neat?” Futakuchi looked at Iwaizumi for confirmation; he nodded, “One highball, another lychee martini, “ he rolled his eyes and Terushima stuck out his tongue, “and, Oikawa, what do you want this time?”

 

“Whiskey! Double! Neat!” he cried out from under Terushima’s arm.

 

Futakuchi ignored him. “Another oolong cocktail, with a little extra ice, please, and a couple waters if you wouldn’t mind?”

 

“Yes, of course,” she left the room in an instant.

 

“I don’t want oolong, I want whiskey!” Oikawa whined, throwing his head back, hitting his head again as if he’d forgotten the wall was still there.

 

“Tooru, you’re drunk,” Terushima elbowed him in the ribs before leaning in and attaching his lips to Oikawa’s ear. Iwaizumi felt his skin start to prickle.

 

“Tell me about yourself, Iwaizumi,” Futakuchi ran his hand deliberately up Iwaizumi’s arm, forcefully pulling in his gaze. “For example, how did you get these amazing muscles, you have to work out.”

 

“I do sometimes,” Iwaizumi fidgeted in his seat, “I used to play volleyball competitively through college so—“

 

“Shut up!” Oikawa lurched forward, knocking over the glasses in front of him, “You played volleyball too? No way, what position?”

 

“Wing spiker.”

 

“Aw, I bet you were good too!” Oikawa’s pout came out, “You were the ace, weren’t you, I just know it.”

 

Iwaizumi smiled a little, “Maybe I was.”

 

“Of course you were!” Oikawa rolled his head dramatically, “I wish I had an ace like you to toss to, my high school ace was okay but my college team ace was the worst! I hated him.”

 

“I was my team’s ace too, Tooru,” Terushima cooed in Oikawa’s ear, “Maybe you could toss to me sometime.”

 

“No, you wouldn’t be as good as Iwa-chan, you’re too unreliable, and not as buff.”

 

Futakuchi’s mouth fell open before erupting into a hearty laugh, “I didn’t even have to do anything, he said it for me!”

 

Terushima cleared off the table space in front of him and rolled up his sleeve. His elbow hit the table with a heavy thump. “Alright, Iwaizumi, let’s settle this before I’ve lost all of my dignity.”

 

Iwaizumi’s smile broadened. He pushed his right sleeve up farther—he did love a good challenge. “I have to warn you, I’ve never lost.”

 

At that moment the waitress reappeared with their drinks, setting them down right in the middle of the machismo contest with a heavy sigh. Iwaizumi and Terushima withdrew their arms sheepishly.

 

“Nooo!” Oikawa actually wailed. “I wanted to see you two fight!”

 

“Call your dog off Iwaizumi, Oikawa,” Futakuchi chided him, bringing the highball up to his lips, “He’s my date, you’re stuck with Teru.”

 

“It’s not like that!” Oikawa huffed in his seat. He turned and buried his face in Terushima’s chest. “I’m not stuck with him…”

 

“Speaking of volleyball,” Futakuchi set down his drink, leaned across the table and grabbed Oikawa’s oolong cocktail, “I’m cutting you off, you have practice early tomorrow, right?”

 

“Kenji! Give it back!” Futakuchi waggled his brows and downed Oikawa’s drink in one go.

 

“It’s for the team.”

 

“Practice?” Iwaizumi’s interest piqued.

 

“Tooru coaches his school’s boys’ volleyball team,” Terushima nudged the man pouting under his arm, “You just couldn’t give it up, could you?”

 

“My team’s going to nationals,” Oikawa murmured, mostly to himself, “I’m going to make sure of it.”

 

“Yeah, they’ll make it as long as you’re functional at morning practices. Not so hungover you can barely stand,” Futakuchi shrugged, “or worse, still drunk.”

 

“That only happened once,” Terushima chimed in.

 

Oikawa threw himself off of Terushima with a flourish of horror and disgust, “I was not drunk! I had so much water and coffee while you were just passed out on the couch!” He looked at Iwaizumi with frenzy in his eyes. “Iwa-chan, I would never go to work drunk.”

 

“I hope not,” Iwaizumi took a long drink to steady himself. The quick burn rushed down his throat and filled his body with warmth and enough of a false sense of security. “If you did I’d have to hit you again.”

 

“Again?” Futakuchi’s face lit up.

 

“It was only one time!” Oikawa whined, burying his face in his hands.

 

Terushima shot a look down at Oikawa. “Why are you defending him?”

 

“You left that out of the debriefing.”

 

Iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow, “Debriefing?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Futakuchi downed his drink with ease before elaborating, “Oikawa gave me all the details about you before tonight. Well, almost all of them. He went on and on about how much you bullied him but assured me you were still sweet. However, he neglected the bit on physical abuse.”

 

Iwaizumi’s eyes cast downward, Oikawa told him how much exactly? It seemed obvious now that the guy would have to know about Iwaizumi’s soulmate situation and this was an allegedly safe place for topics like that. Still it felt so raw and uncomfortable. Everyone is this tiny room knew about one of Iwaizumi’s personal secrets and, except for Oikawa, he didn’t know much more about any of them other than their names.

 

“Speaking of debriefing, I didn’t get any information on you guys,” Iwaizumi made sure to glare at Oikawa who busied himself with attacking the straw in Terushima’s drink. “What do you do?”

 

“I’m a model,” Terushima angled his chin upward for emphasis.

 

“Aspiring,” Futakuchi snapped. “I wait tables most days.”

 

“And other days?”

 

“Teru and I are dancers, the private kind.”

 

A beat. “Oh, is that so?” Iwaizumi prayed his tone didn’t sound judgmental

 

Apparently he didn’t pray hard enough. “What’s that businessman, are you uncomfortable in a small room with two fully clothed strippers?” Terushima rose to his knees and began to remove his shirt. “We can fix that, you know.”

 

“Teru, for the love of god, stop,” Futakuchi grabbed the hem of Terushima’s shirt and yanked it down violently. “You are so unrefined.”

 

“Whatever, princess,” Terushima stuck out his tongue again, this time flaunting his piercing, and slumped himself around Oikawa.

 

“Does it bother you that they’re strippers, Iwa-chan? I didn’t think it would.” Oikawa looked almost heartbroken.

 

“No no, it really doesn’t! I just didn’t expect it that’s all…” another silence. This was going well. “How did you guys meet?”

 

Futakuchi and Terushima turned to Oikawa expectantly. “I, well… how do you think?”

 

Terushima’s cocky grin reappeared, “Let’s just say now my lapdances are on the house.”

 

“You never made me pay. The first time you pulled me aside and asked me to help you win a bet against Kenji.”

 

“I knew it!” Futakuchi burst into laughter again, followed by Oikawa. Even Terushima fell to its contagiousness. Iwaizumi found himself joining in, if anything to help ease the tension.

 

Soon enough the night had settled into a routine of Oikawa embarrassing himself, Futakuchi and Terushima trying to one up each other, and Iwaizumi laughing off to the side. It surely wasn’t comfortable, but Iwaizumi felt better with the evening than he thought he would. Terushima was in the middle of defending his love for Korean hip-hop when the waitress came into the room, this time to remove the buzzer.

 

“Final call, are you ready to pay?” She took the menu before Oikawa could grab at it again.

 

Iwaizumi pulled out his wallet, but Futakuchi stayed his hand. “I’ve got this one. Trust me, I get a lot of tips.” The waitress rolled her eyes, took his card, and rushed out of the room.

 

“Aww, I don’t want to go home yet!” Oikawa whined, still drunk after being cut off over an hour earlier.

 

“Babe, you know the night’s not over yet,” Terushima stood and pulled Oikawa up to his feet. Oikawa was a good eight centimeters or so taller, but he seemed to shrink under the other man’s hungry leer. Iwaizumi shifted a little in his seat.

 

The waitress returned, out of breath as if she’d been running, handed Futakuchi his card and let out a rushed “thank you have a good night,” before disappearing one last time.

 

“God, I never get sick of how much she hates us,” Futakuchi smiled to himself, pocketing his card and standing. “Now, shall we go before she literally kicks us out?”

 

The four of them headed out of the room and down the hall, but Terushima pulled back. “You guys go ahead, I think I see a client over there…” he trailed off and turned away.

 

“I need to bathroom!” Oikawa stumbled off quickly behind.

 

Futakuchi chuckled. “Subtle.”

 

“What?” Iwaizumi tilted his head in confusion.

 

“Oh nothing, let’s just wait for them outside.”

 

The two entered the stairway, greeted by the droning hum of the Pachinko parlor. They made their way down the stairs in relative silence. Iwaizumi checked his pockets to make sure he had everything. Keys, check. Work ID, check. Wallet… fuck.

 

“Oh shit,” Iwaizumi grasped all of his pockets again, hoping he’d just missed one, “I think I forgot my wallet, could you wait here for a second?”

 

“Sure thing,” Futakuchi breathed, continuing his way out of the building.

 

Iwaizumi sprinted back up the stairs to the bar, greeting the hostess with slightly ragged breath. “Was… there… a wallet in… the Oikawa party room?”

 

“No, sir, our busser hasn’t turned anything in. Maybe you dropped it in the hall?”

 

Iwaizumi didn’t feel like he was drunk enough to leave something behind so carelessly like that, but this night was very stressful and anything was possible. He bowed and ran down the hall, nearly knocking over a busboy in the process. As he neared the bathroom door, a very faint sound stopped him. It was light, airy, and sent off primal signals throughout his body. He held his breath and listened. All he heard was silence and the dull drone of conversation from the hall behind him. He probably just imagin—oh god there it is again.

 

Slowly he turned toward the door, grasped the handle, and edged the door open as quietly as possible. Inside he saw two bodies tangled up together, one rested on the counter with the other between their legs. He saw the cropped, dyed blonde hair reflected in the mirror before he saw Terushima’s face, eyes closed and head thrown back, with Oikawa latching on to his throat. He saw Terushima let out moan, but the sound was different than the one before. It was whinier but somehow bolder, not nearly as breathy. One of Terushima’s eyes flickered open and caught Iwaizumi’s stare. Iwaizumi felt his ears heat up, knowing the blush would spread to meet in the middle of his face soon enough.

 

He was ready to run off feeling guilty about ruining the moment, but Terushima didn’t give him the chance. He smirked and slid his arm down between his and Oikawa’s bodies and slowly rocked it back and forth. And then there was the sound again: that soft, desperate moan that drew Iwaizumi into the room in the first place. Oikawa dropped his head on to Terushima’s shoulder. He was flushed a light pink all over, probably from more than just the alcohol. His hair stuck up in countless directions, evidence of Terushima’s earlier handiwork. Iwaizumi locked on to his lips, swollen and red, the beautiful, eager noise falling off of them with a quiver.  

 

Terushima hopped off the sink, breaking eye contact with Iwaizumi only to guide Oikawa flush up against the bathroom stall. He kissed at Oikawa’s neck, biting and licking and surely using that tongue ring in sinful ways. He unbuttoned Oikawa’s shirt as he moved his mouth down the front of his sculpted torso before dropping fully onto his knees. Iwaizumi managed to escape before Terushima had time to reach for Oikawa’s belt buckle.

 

What exactly was this heat spiking in Iwaizumi’s veins? He had his theories, but Iwaizumi desperately hoped they were all wrong. He had to get out of this place, back outside, back into his bed—maybe a shower—anywhere to escape whatever he was feeling.

 

“Oh! Sir, excuse me!” He was nearly out when the hostess caught him.

 

“Uh, yeah?” His voice felt dry and rough leaving his throat.

 

“I’m so sorry, but one of our bussers actually did return a wallet just moments ago. What did your wallet look like?”

 

“Dark brown leather. Plain.”

 

“Yes, and your name?”

 

“Iwaizumi. Hajime.”

 

She beamed up at him. “Yes, this is your wallet! I’m sorry about earlier.”

 

“Huh?” Iwaizumi’s head reeled in spite of himself. How, how did she know? Did she send him in there on purpose? Is she a demon?

 

“I’m sorry for sending you off to search for something that was never really lost? Uh, well, no, I mean I’m sorry that we found it after you went looking for it when you already asked us…” she was babbling, wringing her hands anxiously.

Oh yeah. “Oh, that’s no problem, I’m just glad you found it,” He forced a smile as best as he could to put the girl at ease. She inhaled sharply and looked away, with a rushed “N-No problem!”

 

Iwaizumi made it slowly back down the staircase and forced himself through the door outside, his legs felt too heavy to move at his normal pace. He’d forgotten Futakuchi would be there waiting for him. He looked up from his phone at Iwaizumi and cocked an eyebrow, “Did I miss something?”

 

“Huh, what?”

 

“That took a while, plus you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

 _I wish it had been just a ghost_. “Oh, um, it was nothing, I was just worried I lost my money and all…”

 

Futakuchi barked out a laugh, sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Well, you’re a shit liar.” Iwaizumi could only grumble a half-hearted denial. “Was it Teru and Oikawa?”

 

Iwaizumi’s blood ran hot again, but somehow also ice-cold. “Mmay—no.”

 

Futackuchi walked over and lightly flicked Iwaizumi on the nose. “Shit liar.”

 

Iwaizumi wanted to fight him; he wanted to deny that piercing gaze and that pink neck and those goddamn sounds until he was long dead in the ground. Instead he leaned onto the wall and sighed.

 

“Figures,” Futakuchi leaned back next to him, his arm pressed against Iwaizumi’s. “They still haven’t come down, plus Teru’s been all over Oikawa since he got here—no offense.”

 

“Why no offense?”

 

Futakuchi glowered at him like he was missing something obvious. “Because you like him.”

 

“I do not—“

 

“Oh please,” Futakuchi drew both of his arms up behind his head, resting his neck in his hands. “You’re totally smitten. I’m not saying it’s ‘you jump, I jump, right?’ forever in love stuff or anything like that, but you like him.” He glanced at Iwaizumi, only his eyes sliding to the side, “I mean, that’s the whole reason you came out tonight, just because he asked you to.”

 

Iwaizumi wanted to say anything to shut this asshole up, but he had nothing.

 

“I think that’s why Teru was so… particularly aggressive tonight. He felt threatened.”

 

“Threatened? Why?”

 

All amusement dropped from Futakuchi’s face. Now he just looked annoyed, like he was talking to an idiot. “Because you’re hot and you’re eyeing his sex toy. The two of them aren’t anything serious, don’t get the wrong idea, but Teru is very possessive and very competitive. He probably wouldn’t be blowing Oikawa in the bathroom right now if he didn’t think you were at least a little interested.”

 

“Ho-How did you know that’s what’s happening?”

 

Now Futakuchi burst into laughter. “Oh god, you are so new.” He stopped laughing and his smile softened. Iwaizumi had to admit the guy was pretty attractive. He was tall and maybe even model-worthy with his delicate, angular bone structure. His hair was smooth and shiny, but if only it were bouncier and a little darker, and his eyes were gorgeous but if they were just a little wider, brighter somehow… No. No no no no no.

 

“Look, you’re very cute and actually fun to talk to—and I could probably convince you to sleep with me if I tried hard enough,” Futakuchi dropped his hands to his side and nudged Iwaizumi lightly in the ribs, “but I’m not going to push it. I can tell when someone’s not into me.”

 

“It’s not that, really.”

 

“Oh, so you do want to fuck me?”

 

Iwaizumi stammered. “No, well, no, I mean, I—“

 

“I know all this stuff is new for you, and that you’ve been through some stuff emotionally—Like I said earlier, Oikawa filled me in,” Futakuchi nudged him again on the last part. “So I’m not going to force anything. You need to figure this stuff out alone. However, if you wanted someone to hang out with, gripe about work, et cetera, you could call me up. No strings, no expectations.”

 

Iwaizumi smiled a little. “That’s surprisingly decent of you.”

 

Futakuchi scoffed, “Surprisingly? Please, I’m the most decent guy you’ve talked to tonight.”

 

Iwaizumi laughed, shoving himself off the wall. “How far away are you, Futakuchi?”

 

“Hm? Why?”

 

“You had more to drink than Oikawa tonight, I want to make sure you get home safe.”

 

“Well, unlike Oikawa, I know my limits and I can hold my liquor,” Futakuchi looked at Iwaizumi from under his long eyelashes, “But if you keep up this charming gentleman act maybe I will trick you into coming home with me.” He winked and Iwaizumi blanched, opening his mouth without finding the right words. Futakuchi let loose his uncanny, hearty laugh once again.

 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. God,” he pulled out his phone and handed it to Iwaizumi, “definitely call me sometime though.” Iwaizumi tapped out his number and handed the phone back to Futakuchi. “Hm, but I’m pretty sure we’ll do something like this again soon.”

 

“Izakaya or the world’s most forced double date?”

 

“Maybe both? Definitely the latter, though. Oikawa’s gonna feel pretty guilty about the night not ending in rainbows and orgasms for you,” Iwaizumi flinched at his word choice. “Plus he was pretty nervous about the whole thing, I think that’s why he got drunk faster than usual,” Futakuchi’s eyes lit up like he had just realized something obvious. “Maybe that’s why Teru…”

 

Iwaizumi was about to ask him what he meant when Futakuchi waved off the thought. “It’s getting late and I have a full day of sleep ahead of me tomorrow, so I’m gonna head out. Are you good getting home, Iwaizumi?”

 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

 

Futakuchi nodded and headed north. He yelled over his shoulder. “Get some sleep too! Don’t think about bathroom blowjobs before bed!”

 

And that was definitely the only thing Iwaizumi could think about from the train ride to his bed until he slipped into unconsciousness.


	5. Impromptu Office Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi has become absorbed in thoughts that he'd rather not be having. Can Kindaichi save the day? Maybe, maybe not, but at least there's cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things got kind of rough personally while writing this chapter so I made it kind of silly as a self-imposed distraction of sorts. There's not much main couple interaction, but there's a lot of side characters and a new romance!

The gym echoed with the smacking sounds of spikes and serves, the squeaks of shoes on hardwood, and calls of ‘nice toss,’ ‘nice kill, and ‘nice serve.’ A particularly powerful serve flew over the net towards the opposing team’s libero, he ducked slightly calling the ball out. The ref confirmed the call and the set ended 25-23.

Oikawa stood from the bench, setting his clipboard aside. “Alright, good match everyone! Fall in!” a group of panting, sweaty high school students gathered in front of him, quietly congratulating each other on the practice game.

“As a team, we’re really making progress on solidifying our connections, the holes in our defense are tightening up but we’re going to continue our rotation of block follow and flying receive drills next week. Remember, there’s no official practice tomorrow but the gym is open for free practice if you want to come in. And there is no practice on Monday whatsoever, you need to take time to rest your bodies, understood?”

A resounding call of “Yes, sir!” thundered in the gym. Oikawa smiled. “Alright then, make sure you fully do your stretches, if you think you’re done do a couple more rounds. We don’t want anyone getting injured. I’ll see some of you in class on Monday.”

The boys broke off into groups to stretch and Oikawa grabbed his things and began to organize his bag, humming to himself. A tall, younger looking man finished writing notes on his own clipboard, furrowed his brow, and turned to Oikawa. “Oikawa-san, you left a note for me in the staff room about working individually with Koike-kun on tosses?”

“Yes. Koike-kun needs more work on his versatility. He has the talent, he just needs to polish it.”

The man nodded, still slightly confused. “Yes, but I thought you were working with him?”

“I am, I want him to switch off and work with you for a while. I know it’s extra work when you're preparing for evaluations, but I think you can handle it.”

“But why, I mean, weren’t you the ace setter—“

“Yahaba-kun,” Oikawa looked up from his bag, still wearing a friendly smile beneath sharp, almost threatening eyes. “You were also the official setter for your high school and college teams. A good setter can accommodate any spiker and between the two of us we have a lot of varied experience to share, don’t we?”

Yahaba stepped back slightly, “Yes, you’re right. I just feel like you’re so good that you could do it alo—“

“Yahaba-kun, you need to stop with all this self-doubt,” Oikawa set his hand on Yahaba’s shoulder, shaking it lightly for emphasis. “I wouldn’t have harassed my dear student teacher to help me coach if I didn’t think he was any good. Now let’s head to the staff room to work on training schedules. And stop scowling, you’re gonna get wrinkles and ruin your pretty face.”

Yahaba cocked an eyebrow, “Okay, I’ll see you upstairs then.” He turned out of the gym and Oikawa finished gathering his things. He pulled his cell phone out of his bag before slinging it onto his shoulder and following shortly behind Yahaba.

He had two new messages, one from his sister and one from Terushima.

>>[Terushima]: Hey babe, last night was pretty hot

Oikawa smirked at his phone as he tapped out his reply

>>[Oikawa]: You sure know how to use that tongue ring don’t you ;)

He sent a quick answer to his sister and checked his inbox again, curious that he hadn’t received anything from Kenji or Iwa-chan since the night before. He didn’t see them when he and Terushima finally left the restaurant, but Iwa-chan wasn’t the kind of guy to go home with someone on the first date. Plus Oikawa wasn’t really sure if Iwa-chan had that good of a time. He started typing out a feeler text to Iwaizumi to get a read on the situation but something stopped him. Instead he sent one to Futakuchi.

>>[Oikawa]: Hey there killer, how’d it go last night???

Oikawa made it a few steps before he heard a response.

>>[Futakuchi]: Fuck you Oikawa I’m trying to sleep

Then another

>>[Futakuchi]: I don’t think Iwaizumi hated it but it was definitely not his thing.

>>[Oikawa]: Hated what, the date??

>>[Futakuchi]: No, the ben wa balls.

Oikawa stopped in this tracks; he felt his stomach drop. Another text came in.

>>[Futakuchi]: Of course I’m talking about the date, god. I think it was a bit much for him all at once and he wasn’t into me so

>>[Oikawa]: Nooo don’t be hard on yourself, Kenji-kun. I misgauged the situation but we can try this again and I’m sure it will go well this time!!!

Oikawa turned the last corner into the staff room and set his bag down by his desk. Yahaba was already on the phone with the coach from another school, working out details for an upcoming practice match. Oikawa pulled out his laptop and opened spreadsheets documenting his team’s individual performance, along with timesheets and partially filled scheduling blocks. He cracked his knuckles and began filling in new information, scrolling between the documents at a manic pace. Futakuchi’s next text finally came in.

>>[Futakuchi]: You really care about this working out for him, don’t you?

Oikawa froze, reading the message over again. Of course he wanted things to work out for Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan was a great guy, a little rough around the edges, sure, but there was something genuine about him. And sturdy. And strong. He was the type of person who deserved to be happy, and Oikawa wanted to help him reach that happiness. But if all this effort was for the benefit of Iwa-chan, why did Oikawa suddenly feel so selfish?

 

\-----------------------

Iwaizumi drained the rest of his coffee, already itching for another. He sure as hell wasn’t hungover, but his body demanded the sharpness of caffeine to pull him out of whatever haze this was.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw Oikawa, pink and gasping on Terushima’s shoulder, or Oikawa splayed against the wall, his chest exposed and his mouth hanging open, those light, breathy moans spilling out. He kept hearing Futakuchi’s damn accusations, or worse that wind-chime laughter or endless choruses of “Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi rose quickly, his chair shooting backwards and slamming into the cubicle wall. He grabbed his mug and rushed out of the room. He rounded the corner just missing Kindaichi, who spun to greet him but was ultimately left behind in the dust. Hanamaki turned in his seat to meet the new visitor.

“Kindaichi, what’s up?”

“Hey, Hanamaki-senpai. It’s nothing, just… does Iwaizumi-sen—“ Kindaichi cut himself off, “I mean, does Iwaizumi seem off today?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Hanamaki leaned back in his chair, resting the back of his head in his hands. “I’m not too worried though, I think it’s just a little sensei drama.”

Kindaichi drew his brows together. “Sensei drama?”

“You know that teacher friend of his? The one he’s clearly into but won’t admit it?”

“You mean his neighbor?”

Hanamaki laughed. “Oh, is that all he’s told you? And here I thought you two were good friends.”

“Iwaizumi-ssss… he doesn’t talk about his… stuff like that.”

“Maybe that’s true. And in your defense, you don’t see the constant texting or hear the phone calls—“

Kindaichi’s eyes flashed. “Kunimi did mention something about Iwaizumi being on the phone with his girlfriend, but I told him that he must have misunderstood the situation.”

“Yeah, because it’s not a girlfriend, Iwaizumi’s got himself a boytoy,” Hanamaki slowly shook his head. “but then he had to go and catch feelings, and it doesn’t seem to be going well.”

“He’s told you all of this?”

“No, I’m just intuitive about this kind of stuff,” his eyelids lowered. “Like how I know you’ve had a crush on him since… I want to say high school?”

Kindaichi stiffened, narrowing his eyes. “You can be kind of a dick sometimes, Hanamaki-senpai.”

Hanamaki burst into laughter, turning back to his computer. “Ask Mattsun, he’d argue I’m a dick most of the time.” His voice fell soft, mostly like he was talking to himself. He smiled fondly. “But he’s worse, trust me.”

Kindaichi sort of half nodded and walked out of the room. If Iwaizumi was seeing someone, or thinking about someone, it had to be weighing on him a lot. He’d basically sworn himself to a life of solitude after he found out about his soulmate so to go through a change like this… Kindaichi wanted to do something, say anything to him that would be helpful, but if Iwaizumi hadn’t brought it up to him yet that meant he wasn’t ready to talk about it. But still…

Kindaichi was so lost in thought that walked right into something, something that turned out to be a person who was now falling to the ground.

“Oh shit! Kozume, I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s fine, Yuutaro,” he reached for his phone, inspecting it carefully for damage before standing. “and please don’t call me Kozume, it’s too formal. Kenma is fine.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry Kenma. Is your phone alright?”

“Yeah, I have a pretty good case for it,” he spoke without looking up from said phone, tapping out a text. He looked up quickly, as if he’d just remembered something. “Oh, Yuutaro, do you like sweets?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, from time to time, nothing too crazy though… why?”

Kenma looked back at his screen, typing once again as he spoke. “Kuroo had to make a lot of samples for this wedding his company is catering next month so now they have about forty small cakes to get rid of. He said he might bring them here,” his piercing cat-like eyes shot up. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Kindaichi nearly jumped. “Yes! Yes that’s a perfect idea! Would he bring them today?”

Kenma flinched at Kindaichi’s sudden excitement. “Uh, yeah, the tasting is almost over so…”

“Yes! Kenma, you are just, thank you!”

“Uh… you’re welcome, I guess…” he turned his full attention back down to his phone and continued walking down the hallway.

Kindaichi smiled to himself, nearly running down the hall. Maybe the idea wasn’t perfect exactly, but this could provide a decent distraction. Everyone in the office could get together, eat some cake, let off some steam; it’d be like a small party. If anything it could take Iwaizumi’s mind off of things, or maybe give him a chance to talk about what’s bothering him. A change of pace would be good for him, and for everyone really. He smiled again at the prospect before turning into the nearest cubicle to start spreading the news.

 

\--------------------------- 

At two o’clock most of the office had gathered in the open space by the receptionist’s desk. Everyone was chatting amongst themselves as they waited for Kenma to let in his boyfriend into the building with the cakes. The receptionist, Misaki Hana, paced worriedly in front of her desk, clearing off space for plates and drinks while talking to herself and whoever would listen.

“I just, I feel like if Sakusa-sama found out about us having a party during business hours we would all get in so much trouble. But at the same time I know we all haven’t had a break in a while, but still this is so irresponsible… If Sakusa-sama finds out…”

“Sakusa would actually have to show up to work to find out anything, Hana-san,” Hanamaki called over to her, “So I’m not really worried.”

The people around him, including Hana, laughed.

“Has anyone actually ever met Sakusa-sama?” Iwaizumi asked between chuckles.

“Not that I know of.”

A voice came from behind them. “I almost met his son once, but it was more like I showed up at headquarters for a meeting and I caught of glimpse of him leaving.”

Hanamaki and Iwaizumi turned to see the head of the marketing department, Ennoshita Chikara, with the rest of his team behind him.

“Oh shit, marketing’s here? Now you know it’s a party,” Hanamaki joked.

A short man with tall, spiked up hair and a surprisingly loud voice chimed in. “Shut up, Takahiro, you know if there’s free food involved, marketing will be there!” the two men laughed boisterously.

“Marketing? You guys never leave your wing, I was starting to think you didn’t exist,” Iwaizumi laughed again.

“Psh, that’s just because Chikara takes this whole secrecy policy thing way too seriously,” the short man said nudging Ennoshita in the ribs. “Somebody in this department has to be serious,” Ennoshita replied coolly.

“Hey! Ryuu and I are plenty serious, right?” the short man turned to look for confirmation, but he didn’t find it. “Oi, where’s Ryuu?”

“He’s over there, crashing and burning with Hana-san,” Hanamaki jerked his head toward a man with a shaved head blushing uncontrollably while offering to help Hana with her set-up.

“Ryuu! Ryuu, hold up!” The short man took off toward the desk with impressive speed.

Ennoshita sighed, rubbing his temple. “It’s almost horrifying how those two are my best men but they forget simple things like introductions.” He turned to Iwaizumi and extended his hand. “I’m Ennoshita Chikara.”

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” the two shook hands and smiled. Ennoshita gestured off to the side, “The loud ball of energy you met over here is Nishinoya Yuu, and his scary-looking, hapless romantic friend over there is Tanaka Ryuunosuke. They’re my pitch team.”

“They do the pitches for this company?”

“I know, it seems like a train wreck, but believe me, Noya could get anyone excited about anything. And Tanaka, well, he’s good at pressuring investors and his innate need to humble himself to women works surprisingly well with female clients.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And these guys behind me are Narita Kazuhito and Kinoshita Hisashi, our research division.”

The men exchanged greetings and pleasantries until Kenma and Kindaichi arrived with guests and refreshments.

Kindaichi rushed over to the receptionist’s desk with bags of drinks and cups while Kenma helped guide in the cart of food pushed by a tall man with exceptionally messy black hair. A tiny blonde woman—who appeared to be shaking in fear—followed them, pushing a second cart.

“Kenma, is here good to set up?” The tall man asked.

“Um, yeah sure…” Kenma looked around cautiously, “I didn’t think the whole office would show up for this.”

The tall man laughed. “I’m not. Anyone who’s seen the lunches I pack you has to be racked with jealousy. They’d jump at the chance to try my cakes.” He ruffled Kenma’s hair, causing the shorter man to flinch and scowl. He laughed again and smoothed out the hair, marveling at the man beneath him.

Kindaichi lightly jogged over to meet Iwaizumi and Hanamaki who along with Ennoshita were staring at the couple in the middle of the room. “Hey guys, I’m back, aw man, the cakes look so good.” He followed their gaze. His face lit up and he lowered his voice, “Oh yeah, it’s so weird isn’t it? And on the way here he was like all over Kenma, it’s like he worships him.”

“It’s definitely… unexpected,” Ennoshita said.

Iwaizumi spoke up. “They seem happy, well, I think Kozume looks happy—at least he looks relaxed, I think?”

“His boyfriend is happy, for sure,” Kindaichi assured them.

“He’s hot,” everyone whipped their heads around to stare at Hanamaki, who’s eyes were locked on to the raven-haired chef.

“Hanamaki!”

“What?” he turned to Iwaizumi who was now staring at him incredulously. “He’s hot as fuck, with that hair and those bedroom eyes? Had I met him before Mattsun, sheesh…” He shook his slowly, returning his gaze to Kuroo. “I’d let him break me.”

Iwaizumi shook his head, with a small smile breaking across his face. “That’s fucked up, man. You’re kind of fucked up.”

“That’s true,” Hanamaki pulled out his phone and snapped a picture. “I’m sending this to Mattsun, he’s gonna flip.”

“You’re gonna tell him all this disgusting stuff?”

“Disgusting? Iwaizumi, you’re so innocent. But yeah, I’m definitely gonna tell him so he can freak out with me.”

“What an interesting relationship you two have,” Ennoshita laughed.

“One day when you kids find true love, you’ll understand.” The group chuckled and continued teasing Hanamaki except for Iwaizumi, who half-heartedly laughed and rocked back and forth on his feet. Kindaichi tapped his foot anxiously, wishing he knew a way to steer the subject away from boyfriends and soulmates when Kuroo called for the attention of the room.

“Hello? Excuse me, everyone, can I just get your attention for a brief moment? My name is Kuroo Tetsurou, I’m the head pastry chef at Sanokuya. As I’m sure Kenma didn’t tell you, we have a wedding job coming up so the bride asked for a sample of every cake known to man, therefore we have a ridiculous amount of leftovers. Feel free to help yourselves, just please don’t knock over the carts during the frenzy or my assistant, Hitoka, will have a brain hemorrhage,” the small woman next to him squeaked in terror. “Everything is set up so please, enjoy, it’s a party.”

The mass of office workers split off into two groups, slowly converging on the carts of cakes. Hanamaki stepped off to the side, smoothing his short bangs. “I’m going for it.”

“Going for what?” Iwaizumi asked. Hanamaki didn’t answer him, instead he walked up to Kuroo who was helping dole out pieces of the larger cakes.

“Hey,” Hanamaki practically purred. Iwaizumi felt the urge to hide his face.

Kuroo gave him a slow once over. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Do you have any coconut cake? It’s my boyfriend’s favorite.”

“Oho, your boyfriend has a sweet tooth too?” Kuroo turned completely away from the man he was previously helping.

“Yeah, when it comes to sweets,” Hanamaki lowered his voice, “you could say he’s insatiable.” Iwaizumi and Kindaichi both cringed.

Kuroo leaned in, lifting his chin. “Well, I’m sure I could satisfy him.” He turned for a moment to grab a piece of cake and a fork. He dug the fork in to pull off a bite and he lifted it to Hanamaki’s lips. “See for yourself.” Hanamaki closed his lips around the cake and pulled his head back slowly, making eye contact with Kuroo the whole time.

He licked off the excess frosting. “You sure know how to deliver, Kuroo-san.”

“Please, call me Kuroo.”

Iwaizumi finally had to look away. Kindaichi turned to see Kenma standing next to him, eyes glued to his phone. “Kenma, di-did you see any of that?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.”

“Are you okay with him acting like that? It’s kind of, um…”

“I don’t really care,” Kenma shrugged, still looking at his screen. “I’m the one he’s going home with.”

Iwaizumi choked out a laugh. Kindaichi laughed himself, stepping backwards slightly. He knocked into something, which again turned out to be a person. This time it was Kuroo’s tiny assistant who fell, dropping the plates she was carrying on the floor. Kindaichi gawked, kneeling down to help her with the mess.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I am so sorry, are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine, n-no scratches!” She laughed nervously showing him her arms, which shook as she held them out.

“That’s a relief,” Kindaichi smiled, trying to calm her down. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You know that’s the second time today I haven’t been paying attention and knocked someone down. I need to be more careful.”

“N-no it’s fine! I’m just s-s-small and everyone here is so b-big and…” She laughed again, making quick eye contact with Kindaichi before looking away. Kindaichi felt his face heat up slightly. Her eyes were so bright and warm; she was so cute.

“Here, I can take some of those,” Kindaichi reached out to take a stack of plate fragments from her when she reeled back and screamed. Everyone in the room went quiet, Kindaichi’s blood ran cold. “What? Wh-What did I do? Are you okay? Did you cut yourself? Did I do something? What happened?”

She couldn’t speak. Her eyes went unbelievably wide on her face; her hand flew up to cover her mouth. Her other hand rose shakily, pointing at Kindaichi. A few syllables stammered out, “Y-yo-your w-wr-ah-i-it’s m-mi-ine.”

Kindaichi didn’t move, he knelt frozen in horror, what could he have possibly done?

Kuroo rushed over to her and put his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. His voice came out soft and slow “Hey, hey, calm down, everything is okay. Can you tell me what happened?”

She didn’t relax but she nodded, swallowing hard before she spoke. “Th-that’s my marking.” Her face turned instantly red, immediately followed by Kindaichi’s.

“What, Hitoka-chan, is that true?” Kuroo maintained his soothing tone, but his face lit up in excitement.

“On h-his wrist… t-two stars…”

Kindaichi’s whole body went hot and numb. As if in a trance he pushed up his right sleeve to reveal his wrist. There was an image two shooting stars with their trails, made of smaller stars, intertwining behind them. Kindaichi looked like he was going to pass out. “C-can I… see yours?”

Hitoka shrieked. “No! I-it’s…” Her voice dropped to a nearly inaudible level. “It’s in a… private place…” Kindaichi’s body folded over on itself.

“Well this is a cause for celebration! Two lovers have found each other!” Kuroo stood up and gestured to the room. “Somebody’s gotta be keeping booze in their desk, right? Come on, this calls for a toast!”

Kenma walked over with a bottle of soda, “Kuroo, no one keeps alcohol here, this will have to do.”

The two of them began pouring drinks for the room and the marketing team worked on delivering them as quickly as possible. Hana and Hanamaki swept up the remaining broken dishes to clear the floor. Hitoka and Kindaichi finally rose to their feet and stood silently in the center of the room, both of them looked as if they’d been hit hard in the back of the head. Iwaizumi watched the two of them shift awkwardly next to each other. Hanamaki walked over and shoved a drink in his hands.

“Ah, another love story is born, huh?”

“Yeah, you think they’d be happier though.”

“Hm?” Hanamaki appraised them quickly, “Oh, well it’s not like you jump into your soulmates arms and everything is instantly rainbows and orgasms.” Iwaizumi’s head jerked up, he’d definitely heard that somewhere before. “Those two are strangers, I don’t even think they know each other’s names yet and now a room full of people are about to toast them? It makes sense that they’re so freaked out, it’s freaking terrifying.” Hanamaki swirled his drink in his cup and watched the bubbles rise and fizz. “Look, I know you haven’t met your soulmate… but it’s really not that much different from dating. You still have to get to know them, you still get worried about whether or not you’re going to weird them out or piss them off. You’re still navigating a minefield of emotional terror.”

All the drinks had been passed out and the crowd gathered around Hitoka and Kindaichi, with Kuroo in the middle, his arms around both of them. He started giving a speech, but Hanamaki continued talking in a hushed voice. “It’s not like we’re cheering for them because they’re already happy, we’re cheering because we want them to be happy. Soulmate or not you can still be miserable, I mean look at my parents. You should just want to be happy, you know?”

Iwaizumi turned to say something but was interrupted by the rounds of “Kanpai!” and hooting cheers. He looked at the couple in the middle of the room as they shakily took drinks from their cups and looked at each other. They laughed nervously as Kindaichi slowly extended his hand and Hitoka shook it. They exchanged some words and started laughing again. From a distance they really didn’t look different from a couple meeting on a blind date.

Iwaizumi’s stomach clenched. But they know it will work out, don’t they? He wanted to ask Hanamaki what he meant about his parents, but the party was picking up with greater fervor than before. Noya and Tanaka were singing a celebratory song for the couple, running from Ennoshita as he tried to stop them. Instead, Iwaizumi slowly made his way to the elevator and backed inside, hitting the button for the lobby.

He stood outside the front entrance wishing he had an excuse to be there. Maybe he should start smoking. He sighed and leaned against the building, slowly sinking down until he was completely seated on the ground.

He was happy for Kindaichi, he really was. Kindaichi was one of his oldest friends and he was such a good kid, he deserved all the happiness in the world. Like Hanamaki said, they were cheering because they wanted those two to be happy.

But Iwaizumi could only think about how he wanted that same chance at happiness and how he’d never get it. He was being selfish, he knew it, but it was too natural. He wanted to love someone enough to spend the rest of his life with them, but…

Maybe he should keep trying with this dating thing, even if it was pointless, just to provide himself with a distraction. Maybe he could try again with Futakuchi, no, that ship had definitely sailed. Well, maybe Futakuchi knew someone decent, or maybe Oikawa—

Iwaizumi’s breath hitched in his throat. Oikawa. Goddamn Oikawa. What was it about that stupid guy that pissed him off so bad? No, he wasn’t pissed off, Iwaizumi wished he were pissed off. When he thought of that infuriating fake smile he was pissed off but that’s because Oikawa shouldn’t have a fake smile, he should have a genuine smile, he should always be—

Iwaizumi covered his face and yelled in frustration. Futakuchi couldn’t be right, he didn’t like Oikawa like that. Sure he had feelings, he didn’t know what kind of feelings they were, but they weren’t those ones, definitely not. He liked Oikawa as a person, he was a… an okay person. He was an obnoxious, flashy bastard, but he was a caring, persistent, funny… NO

Just then Iwaizumi’s message alert went off. He checked thinking it was Hanamaki trying to track him down, but when he saw the sender his face went hot.

Was he an actual fucking demon?

>>[Oikawa]: Yoohoo Iwa-chan~~! Last night definitely did not go as planned and that’s my fault. But don’t give up hope yet! !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑ We’re doing round two this Saturday, and you better bring your A-game!!!

Iwaizumi couldn't keep himself from laughing. Oikawa was so ridiculous, he was the most ridiculous person he’d ever met. Iwaizumi smirked as he wrote his reply.

>>[Iwaizumi]: Okay, but you better not fuck it up this time.

Iwaizumi burst into laughter once again at the instantaneous writing bubble that popped up and the onslaught of frantic defenses that blew up on his screen.

As Oikawa argued his newly assumed innocence, Iwaizumi’s insecurities slowly started to break down. An idea hit him and he impulsively opened his contacts and began typing out a message before he lost his nerve.

>>[Iwaizumi]: Hey, it’s Hajime. I know it’s been a while, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to talk soon. I think I want to start dating someone and the whole idea has me kind of freaked out. It’s actually been kind of killing me, believe it or not. I don’t know why I didn’t come to you sooner, but if you don’t have time to really hash it out, I understand. It has been years after all. Anyway, I hope to hear from you soon.

He hit send as he received another message from Oikawa composed strictly of angry and crying emojis. Iwaizumi smiled and shook his head. Hopefully he’d get a reply soon, because he was going to need a lot of help with this one.


	6. The Double Date Redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to get in that double date redo. Oikawa has the perfect plan. Too bad it falls apart, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a little bit of iwaoi makes its way into this iwaoi fic. Also some rarepairs appear bc I simply can't resist them. And each chapter is progressively getting longer, and taking a bit longer to write. I hope you enjoy!

It was the last Saturday of April. The workers at Sakusa & Associates tried to keep themselves focused in light of the upcoming holiday, but the gorgeous weather provided a formidable distraction. For some, the distractions were greater.

Iwaizumi was glancing over sales projections for the next month when his phone chirped to his right. He tapped the message alert to open another text from Oikawa.

>>[Oikawa]: James Bond? JAMES BOND!?!?! He would be a terrible Jedi you know NOTHING

And another.

>>[Oikawa]: AND BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING IF YOU COMPARE HIM TO HAN SOLO FIRST OF ALL THAT IS BLASPHEMY AND SECOND HE WASN’T A JEDI I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE

Iwaizumi snorted in laughter. He and Oikawa had been texting like this for the last couple of days. Earlier in the week it started out more along the lines of exploring Iwaizumi’s dating history, what he liked to do in his free time, the types of places he liked to go out to in general, etc. But as time and the conversation progressed, there was no definitive end to any topic. It became more like a constant stream of consciousness for both of them. This particular rally started with something related to favorite movies and had divulged into, well, whatever childish argument this was.

Not to say that Iwaizumi was above it.

>>[Iwaizumi]: Leia would have chosen Bond over Solo any day.

He could imagine Oikawa’s face reading that text as he tried to maintain composure in the staff office. Their conversation had also become a battle of sorts about who could get the other in more trouble at work, and Iwaizumi was fairly certain he was winning. It was a few minutes before Oikawa responded, but that was to be expected.

>>[Oikawa]: I can’t I don’t even know where to start with you YOU REPRESHENSIBLE SOULLESS MONSTER

>>[Oikawa]: YOU HAVE NO IDEA JUST I’M NEARLY IN TEARS THEIR LOVE IS SO TRUE AND LEIA HAS GONE THROUGH SO MUCH I’M CRYING IN FRONT OF MY COWORKERS ARE YOU HAPPY

>>[Iwaizumi]: Maybe you shouldn’t text at school, you child.

“Something funny over there, Iwaizumi?” Hanamaki spun to face his cubicle partner.

“Oh, um, just talking to a friend, I’m sorry, I know it’s unprofessional,” Iwaizumi went to put his phone in his briefcase, disappointed as he saw another notification pop up.

“You know I don’t care about that stuff as long as the work still gets done. See, I’m playing trivia crack right now with mattsun, kenma, and kuroo.”

“I still can’t believe that weird couple-friends relationship.”

“That’s just because you’re still in the flirting stage with sensei.”

Iwaizumi sharply inhaled. “I’m not—“

“Fine, whatever you say,” Hanamaki’s eyes darkened. “What are you two talking about?”

“None of your business.”

“Is it too hard to explain? Because it’s like everything and nothing at the same time? Making each other laugh when you haven’t really said anything at all?”

“You sound like a chick flick, please stop.”

“Iwaizumi, your life is a romcom and I’m gonna prove it.”

Iwaizumi clicked his tongue and stood as he heard his phone chirping again from his bag. It went off again only seconds later. The tension in the cubicle was palpable.

“Where you goin?”

“Bathroom.”

“Are you gonna take your briefcase to the bathroom? I won’t judge.”

The phone chirped a third time. Iwaizumi grit his teeth and picked up the whole briefcase before he turned out of the cubicle to the hall, leaving Hanamaki behind, giggling like a schoolgirl.

Iwaizumi shut himself in the bathroom and locked the door. He took out his phone.

>>[Oikawa]: Iwa-channnnnnn why are you so meeeaaaannnnnn??????

>>[Oikawa]: YOU DON’T EVEN CARE ABOUT YOUR CRUELTY

>>[Oikawa]: oh, actually could you talk for a minute?

>>[Oikawa]: it has nothing to do with that stuff, it’s about tonight

>>[Oikawa]: I’ve snuck out and I’m waiting in the bathroom whenever you’re readdyyyyyy~~

Iwaizumi dialed and held the phone up to his ear.

“Iwa-chan!” His heart stalled a bit, it’d been a while since he’d heard that voice.

“What’s up Oikawa?”

“First of all, Han Solo and Leia have a love that defies bound—“

“Oi! I thought you said this was about tonight!”

“Gah! Okay, don’t yell at me!” Oikawa took a deep breath and let out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, so we’ve discussed all the important details, right?”

“I hope so.”

“The venue, your outfit, meeting time, Kenji and Yuu-chan are on board.”

“Hm. Yeah, that’s all good. You even gave me clear directions this time.”

“Right, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oikawa if you’re changing this last minute—“

“I’m not! I’m not! Well, not entirely. Everything is the same except…”

“…Except? For what?”

“I thought maybe we could go together! I could meet you at Nagaoka-Tenjin and we could ride back into the city together. That way you wouldn’t get hopelessly lost like before and we could talk through any nerves you might have… Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi hadn’t felt any breadth of nervousness about the date all week up until this conversation. He hadn’t been physically alone with Oikawa in over two weeks, not since he started to li—No, no.

“Yeah that’s fine,” his voice felt oddly rough leaving his throat.

“Okay, perfect! I was thinking we could take the 8:11 train so that way we’d be in the city by 8:30. Then with the transfers and walking we’ll be there at about 8:45.”

“Isn’t that still pretty early?”

“I like to be early, being late makes me feel… I don’t know, anxious?”

“Fine. I’ll meet you in time for the 8:11 train.”

“Yay! This is going to go so well tonight, I can feel it!”

Iwaizumi shifted, loosening his tie. “I have to go then, and also I should probably stop texting if I’m going to get all my work done in time to go home and be ready to leave by 8.”

“Aww, Iwa-chan, are you slacking off before Golden Week?”

“Piss off, Shittykawa.”

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” Oikawa yawned. “I’m actually almost done here so I’m going to head home for a quick nap.”

“What a charmed life.”

“MEAN.”

 

\----------------------

The Nagaoka-Tenjin station was bustling with people. Most of the heavy traffic looked like it was headed toward Osaka, naturally, but Iwaizumi wasn’t the only businessman headed back into Kyoto for the night. He turned into the station opening from the western staircase hoping that maybe, just maybe he’d have beaten him there.

He hadn’t.

Oikawa leaned on the wall next below the Hankyu line map chatting effortlessly with a young woman who was hanging on to his every word. She was almost hopping on the balls of her feet, sucked helplessly into his sparkling brown eyes and plastic fake smile. Iwaizumi grunted at his arrival.

“Oh? Iwa-chan, you’re early!”

The young woman looked back and forth between the two tall men on either side of her. “Oikawa-kun, this is the person you were waiting for?”

“Of course!” Oikawa’s smile stretched farther. “I told you I was waiting for gruff, angry old man in a salaryman’s body!”

“What did you say?” Iwaizumi felt his fists clenching. His hands itched to hit him.

Oikawa quickly threw his hands up in defense “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”

“Whatever, shittykawa, we need to go,” Iwaizumi left in a huff, pushing through the turnstiles with too much force. Why did Oikawa have to be such a relentless flirt, couldn’t he just read a book when he was waiting like a normal person?

“Iwa-chan! Waaiiiit!” Oikawa bolted down the stairs skidding to a halt at Iwaizumi’s side. The two of them stood in silence as the train pulled up to the platform. They sat down next to each other as Iwaizumi forcefully fixed his gaze straight ahead, avoiding Oikawa’s pleading eyes.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Hm.”

Oikawa hesitated looking for the right words. “Your outfit looks really good.”

Oh fuck, not a compliment, not now. Iwaizumi tensed before answering, “Hm? Whatever.”

More silence. They passed through the next few towns before Oikawa tried him again. “…Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine…”

“I said I’m fine.” Iwaizumi pulled at his collar. He definitely wasn’t fine. He knew he was getting irrationally upset but he couldn’t calm down, not with Oikawa staring at him like that.

“Are you nervous?”

Iwaizumi clicked his tongue. “Maybe I wouldn’t be if some preoccupied pretty boy didn’t ask me every five seconds.

Oikawa gawked, taken aback. “I’m not preoccupied! And I just want to make sure you’re really okay with this! Sometimes you’re kind of hard to read.”

Iwaizumi raised his eyebrow in disbelief. “I’m hard to read?”

“Most of the time, no. But times like this when you’re yelling at me then get quiet and you seem angry but it doesn’t feel like anger…” Oikawa trailed off pursing his lips. Iwaizumi felt a lump forming in his throat. “Sometimes I feel like you’re hiding something from me.”

“Why would you think that?” Iwaizumi tried to keep his face stoic while ignoring the stuttering in his chest.

“Well, when we’re texting you’re more confident and it seems easier for you to talk. You’re meaner to me, but I can tell it’s a joke. When we talk in person you don’t say as much and you’re on edge, and you snap at me…” Oikawa’s eyes widened. “Do I make you nervous?”

“That’s stupid.”

“Why is that stupid!”

The car doors opened and a few people entered the train. One lanky boy with a thick crew cut and wide cat-like eyes stepped on the train. “Oi-Oikawa-sensei?”

Oikawa’s face snapped into a smile before he turned to look at the boy. “Koike-kun! Good evening!”

The boy’s gaze dropped, his voice came out very small. “Yeah, good evening…” Iwaizumi saw him nervously fidgeting with his hands.

“What brings you back into the city tonight?”

“Oh, um, my dad’s going to be late at the office so my mom wanted me to bring him some dinner…”

“That’s so thoughtful of her!” Oikawa nearly sang the words. “And it’s so kind of you to deliver the food, you must be exhausted after practice today!”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Koike turned his face away, Iwaizumi could see it was turning pink. “and practice is tough, but we need to keep it up if we’re going to do well in the Inter-High.”

“Ah, I should expect that tenacity from our vice-captain!” Iwaizumi looked over at Oikawa who’s face was still smiling, but one much more genuine than he was used to seeing. It was breath taking; Iwaizumi fully understood the high school student’s need to avert his gaze. “And how have your one-on-one sessions with Yahaba-kun been?”

“Yahaba-sensei is… a lot more Spartan than I expected.”

Oikawa laughed. “Ah yes, he is a lot stricter than he looks. But I think it will be good practice for you.”

The boy nodded in agreement as the train pulled into Karasuma station. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Koike all stepped onto the platform.

“Koike-kun, are you getting on the subway?”

“Um, yes.”

“Downtown?”

“Uptown,” noticeable relief spread across his face.

“Well then, I’ll see you Tuesday morning for practice!”

The boy bowed and ran off toward the concession stand, an unusual change of course. “He seemed… in a hurry.” Iwaizumi started.

“Things aren’t easy for Koike-kun right now.”

“Oh, with his family or something?”

“No, not quite…” Oikawa trailed off, his eyes darkening.

Iwaizumi’s mouth dropped in realization. “He has a crush on you?!”

“You don’t have to say it like that!” Oikawa rubbed his eyes in exasperation. “I don’t know what to do about it, he’s our team’s official setter so I started working with him on technique one-on-one and I noticed the changes in his behavior. I’m his coach, he’s 16, this has to be so confusing for him. And I should be a figure of support, not some shameful schoolboy fantasy!”

“I wouldn’t go around calling myself a fantasy if I were you.”

Oikawa ignored him. “That’s why I had Yahaba-kun take over the solo practice. He was also the setter for his teams and he only graduated college last year so his experience is much more recent than mine.”

“Yahaba is your assistant coach?”

“Hm,” Oikawa mumbled in affirmation. “He’s my student teacher, he’s observing my class before he gets placed in a temporary position in the fall, then next spring he’ll get shipped off to his new school.”

“Why wouldn’t he stay at Horikawa?”

Oikawa scoffed. “It’s an elite school, they never hire new teachers.”

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes. “Weren’t you a new teacher when they hired you?”

“I was the exception that proves the rule.”

“That sounds a little cocky.”

“What?” Oikawa turned to face him full on. “I’m the only teacher they’ve hired straight out of college, I did my student teaching and honestly I was better than the staff they had training me.”

“How is that not cocky?”

“I was an exceptional student who finished college in three years and exceptionally charmed the administration at Horikawa Academy not even two months into my observation period, therefore, I am the exception.”

“Wow. How exceptionally lucky.”

“It wasn’t luck!” Oikawa’s eyes grew wide and nearly frantic. “I worked really hard for it! During my observation period I came in every day at 5:30 and stayed well past 8. Even later when I started helping with the volleyball team—though then I started coming in a bit later, around 6:30, but still I put everything I could into that trial run because if I was going to be a teacher I was going to be the best.”

“Do you still work those insane hours?”

Oikawa stared at him blankly. “Of course. I have a lot of students; I have to make sure I give them all the attention they deserve. And then there’s the team and making sure we’re ready for the Inter-High—which reminds me, I should email Yahaba-kun…”

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but stare as Oikawa took out his phone and started frantically typing. The amount of time Oikawa was talking about putting into his work seemed almost impossible given his social life, but for some reason Iwaizumi didn’t think he was lying. They were faint, but Iwaizumi could see bags under Oikawa’s eyes, tinted a light purple, probably covered by some concealer. How did he have so much energy still? Did the guy ever sleep? Does he survive by living in some sort of oxygen chamber?

Oikawa’s head snapped up. “Oh, Iwa-chan, we need to take the downtown train to Kyo—“

“I know how to get to Kyoto station. Plus you already told the doting school boy we were headed downtown.”

“IWA-CHAAANNN!!!”

 

\-----------------------

Oikawa was right about this place; it was much more suited to Iwaizumi’s tastes. The lighting was low, but still bright enough to see the people around you. Soft music played in the background, mostly just the radio. There were no private rooms like Izakaya; this bar was open, western-style, with booths in case your party wanted to sit together and the bar was too crowded. Which was what Terushima and Futakuchi had opted for while waiting for Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

Oikawa started the night off with a whine. “Awww, how did you guys beat us? I told you 9, it’s only 8:45!”

“Getting out of work tonight was hard enough,” Terushima’s eyes darkened.

“Usually only the lead dancers get Saturday nights but Saeko’s felt pretty threatened by this new club that just opened so now she’s scheduling everyone,” Futakuchi finished his drink before finishing his thought. “We literally had to run out of there to dodge the glasses she chucked at our heads.”

“So you guys are gonna start working weekend nights now?” Oikawa flopped down in the booth next to Terushima. “That sucks!”

Terushima sprung into action, wrapping his arms around Oikawa and nuzzling into his neck. “It’s okay, babe, you and I can still see each other during the week like old times.” He started working his tongue along Oikawa’s jaw. Iwaizumi clenched his fists and turned away.

“Whiskey, right, Macho Man?” Futakuchi slid a drink over to the edge of the table, inviting Iwaizumi down next to him.

“Yeah, thanks,” He didn’t sit but downed the drink in one go, “I’m gonna get another, anyone else want anything?”

“I could go too,” Futakuchi waved his empty glass in the air, “I’ll help you.” The two of them walked over to the bar, followed by Oikawa’s curious gaze.

“Sorry Teru switched into aggressive mode so quickly, he wasn’t showing any signs before you guys got here.”

“Signs? Like what, a wagging tongue? The stench of a dog in heat?”

Futakuchi let out a sharp laugh. “Man, you’re brutal when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not—“

“Save it, please, your protests are weaker than your ability to hide a hard-on.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes shot down to his pants in horror and Futakuchi erupted in laughter once again. “Piss off, Futakuchi!” Iwaizumi hit him lightly on the shoulder while breaking into laughter himself.

“You are just too easy.” Futakuchi motioned to the bartender and placed their order. The two of them leaned on the bar. “How are things with Oikawa? He seems to think they’re going pretty well.”

“I don’t know what you mean but we’re getting along fine, I guess.”

“He said you guys text non-stop, he seemed practically giddy about it.”

Iwaizumi blushed a little and turned his head away. “Hmph, how did Mr. Piercing take the news?”

“More or less calmly, I’d say,” Futakuchi narrowed his eyes in thought “It’s funny, he only really gets territorial when you’re here. I actually think he supports the idea of you two getting together.”

Iwaizumi stepped back in surprise. “What? Why?”

“Well, when the three of us hang out it’s clearer that he and Oikawa are just friends with benefits. He wants Oikawa to be happy overall and he’s always excited whenever anything good happens to him, even if that good thing is a beefy businessman. When you’re here he’s just responding to a challenge and it becomes a game for him, and he loves to play games.”

“I don’t know what game he thinks he’s playing, but he’s playing it alone.”

Futakuchi sneered. “I think Oikawa would beg to disagree, from the looks of it.”

Iwaizumi straightened up unconsciously. He turned to look behind him and caught Oikawa staring back at him intensely. Oikawa’s eyes widened and he quickly looked away, almost bumping heads with Terushima, who was desperately trying the get the distracted man’s undivided attention to no avail.

Iwaizumi sunk his head into his hands. “Fuck, fuck, this isn’t good.”

“Huh? What do you mean it’s no good, the guy you like likes you back, that’s basically the definition of good.”

“First, stop saying that I like him. Second, if he does like me that means I’m just going to hurt him because I can’t date anyone. It’s just not in me. I’ve known that for years and I can’t put him through that, he doesn’t deserve it.”

“Oh?” Futakuchi’s eyes had grown dark, almost icy. The bartender set a tray of drinks down in front of him. “If that’s true, then why are you here?” He grabbed three of the drinks off the tray, forgoing Iwaizumi’s whiskey, and left for the table.

Iwaizumi took his whiskey, gripping the glass too tight. He knew why he was here, but it was too hard to admit. Everything about Oikawa was too hard for him to admit. But still, when he wasn’t trying to think about it, when he wasn’t trying to decipher the feelings and make decision, being with Oikawa was so easy. He was easy to talk to, he was easy to laugh at, he was easy to like…

He took a long drink before turning to join the others back at the table.

When he got there, Futakuchi wasn’t as cold as he was before. On the contrary, he was in the middle of a heated discussion with Terushima.

“I’m not saying it to be mean, the fact is just that you are the crudest, crassest, most low-brow dancer in the club. No offense.”

Terushima gripped the edge of the table and leaned over toward Futakuchi, “How exactly am I not supposed to take offense to that?”

“Your new private dance song is called ‘Lick the Pussy,’ you’re not even subtle.”

“I don’t have to be subtle, princess, I give them what they want,” he jutted out his tongue piercing for emphasis.

Futakuchi leaned in to meet him, shifting in his seat. “With that kind of behavior, it’s a wonder you haven’t been fired yet.”

Terushima’s eyes flashed, his eyebrows jumping up his forehead. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Oh? And you’re so chaste with your clients, I bet you stay fully clothed. A clean, Republican lapdance to ‘Panty Wetter,’ hm?”

“I don’t have to work as hard as you do to get them all worked up.”

“Pst,” Oikawa’s voice cut across the table to Iwaizumi, who was uncomfortably engaged in the tension to his left. “Did something happen at the bar?” Oikawa’s whisper was anything but subtle, however, Terushima and Futakuchi didn’t seem to notice.

“Not that I know of.”

“Kenji’s acting super weird, he’s been all over Yuu-chan since he came back.”

Iwaizumi just hummed and shrugged in response, Futakuchi’s eyes flickered over to him. “Look, Teru, you’re bringing the mood down.”

“What? I am not! Tooru!”

“Yes!” Oikawa squeaked in response.

“Am I making everyone uncomfortable?”

“N-no.”

“And you? Iwaizumi? Are you put off by my behavior?”

“Nope.”

“So Kenji, it must be you who’s boring them, not that I’m surprised.”

“And how would you remedy the situation, oh great King of Fun?” Futakuchi shifted his body weight again and Terushima shuddered a little in his seat.

Terushima jumped up and yelled. “L-Let’s do some body shots!” He climbed over Oikawa and dashed over for the bar.

“Ugh, what an idiot,” Futakuchi motioned for Iwaizumi to let him out of the booth. As he passed by he shot a wink at Iwaizumi before waltzing away after Terushima.

“Iwa-chan, what’s going on?”

“I-I have no idea.”

Futakuchi walked up slowly behind Terushima, who was eagerly bouncing up and down at the edge of the bar.

“You sure bounded out of there pretty fast.”

“It was getting pretty tense over there,” Terushima spun around to lock eyes with Futakuchi. “What the hell was all that foot stuff for?”

Futakuchi shrugged, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar! You took your shoes off and everything! What happened with Iwaizumi, did he shoot you down or something and now you’re taking it out on me?”

“Nothing happened with Iwaizumi, we aren’t interested in each other in the slightest.”

Terushima looked away and crossed his arms. “You sure talk about his muscles a lot for someone who isn’t interested in him.”

“Oh?” Futakuchi stepped in closer, dragging a finger up along Terushima’s bicep. “So you did notice that, huh?”

Terushima cocked an eyebrow; his lips twitched in realization, forming a devilish smile. “So even the princess can get down and dirty given the right motivation.”

Futakuchi glowered, taking advantage of the height difference to tower over Terushima. “Do not call me princess.”

“Why not?” Terushima made sure to flash his tongue piercing as he licked his lips “afraid you’ll pop a boner here in the bar?”

“You have no shame,” Futakuchi almost imperceptibly leaned in. He nudged his leg into Terushima’s inner thigh and kept it there.

Terushima looked up at him with hungry, almost desperate eyes. “Please, please, _shame me_.”

Futakuchi leaned all the way in until his lips brushed Terushima’s ear. “Wait for me in the alley, I’ll ditch our dates.” Terushima let out a small whimper, something Futakuchi didn’t expect. He pulled back, feeling himself growing hard. “You go ahead.”

Futakuchi rushed back to the table where a confused Iwaizumi and Oikawa sat in relative silence. “Sorry guys, that idiot is hell-bent on us doing body shots even though this bar is way too straight-laced for that. We came up with a compromise, something we do at the club, but we have to run out and get some supplies for it—and before you ask it’s a surprise.” He stepped back and called out from over his shoulder. “We shouldn't be long, Oikawa get the next round for us, okay?”

Oikawa nodded in confusion and stood up. He walked passed Futakuchi toward the bar and waited patiently for the bartender’s attention.

Futakuchi turned back and quickly leaned in towards Iwaizumi. “Don’t feel like you owe me one or anything, I’m getting mine,” he winked again. Iwaizumi’s face darkened to a deep red as Futakuchi nearly sprinted out of the bar, undoing his belt in the process.

 

\-------------------------- 

“I got more drinks for every—“ Oikawa stopped short as noticed the mostly empty booth. “Kenji and Yuu-chan aren’t back yet?”

“I think our dates are fucking somewhere outside right now,” Iwaizumi grabbed the whiskey from Oikawa’s hands and took a long drink.

Oikawa nodded in understanding, like everything made sense again. “Ah, right, right, good for them.” He drew his brows together in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Oh yeah, Futakuchi’s a cool guy but that wasn’t going anywhere.”

Oikawa sat down next to Iwaizumi and slid him Futakuchi’s highball, “Well, while the lovers are in bliss, we take their alcohol.” He raised Terushima’s martini in the air for emphasis.

Iwaizumi laughed, grabbing the highball and meeting Oikawa in a toast, “Here, here!” The two downed the drinks quickly and set the glasses down on the table in unison. “What about you? Are you upset about haircut?”

“Yuu-chan? No, I mean we’re friends but our relationship was mostly about the crazy good sex.” Iwaizumi choked on his drink, Oikawa raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t think Yuu-chan was a serious interest of mine, did you?”

“Well, I mean I hoped not.” Iwaizumi’s breath stopped in his throat. That was way too honest, fuck, but not that straightforward maybe he didn’t notice.

“Aww, Iwa-chan you have high standards for me!”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Iwaizumi took another drink, “just higher than that partyboy.”

“Partyboy, haircut, you don’t really like Yuu-chan, do you?” Oikawa leaned in for emphasis. He leaned a little too far—he was definitely starting to get drunk.

“He’s fine.”

Oikawa leaned on him now. “Then why won’t you say his name?”

“Terushima is fine, now get off me,” He pushed Oikawa off his shoulder, hoping he missed the blush creeping up his neck.

“Awwww,” Oikawa started to whine as his phone buzzed in his pocket. “Oh hold on.” He pulled out his phone and opened the message. He laughed to himself and turned to Iwaizumi. “Do you want to see?”

Iwaizumi stiffened. “Do I?”

“Oh shut up, it’s innocent.” Oikawa turned his phone to Iwaizumi revealing a blurry photo of a lanky boy tossing a volleyball. There was a caption under the photo that read ‘From the practice camp earlier today. He’s gonna be just like his uncle!’

“Cute kid.”

“My nephew, Takeru,” Oikawa seemed to brag as he said it, but his tone shifted slightly, “He’s such a little brat,” he whipped gaze up to meet Iwaizumi’s “He calls me ‘Tooru’ Iwa-chan, no suffix, no respect, nothing!”

Iwaizumi laughed. “You can’t be upset about that, he’s what, twelve?”

“He’s thirteen! And he’ll be fourteen in August, but that’s no excuse,” Oikawa flipped over his phone and stuck his chin in the air. “It’s no way to treat your favorite uncle!”

“Let me guess, you’re his only uncle.”

Oikawa’s head whipped back. “Iwa-chan! Mean!”

“Do you have any other siblings or just a…”

“Just my older sister,” Oikawa’s voice quieted slightly.

“Do you get to see her often?”

“I used to see her all the time,” Oikawa smiled slightly, it was small but Iwaizumi could tell it was genuine. “In high school I spent almost every weekend with Takeru, I even used to coach a kids’ practice league. In college I tried to visit as much as I could on vacation but that was hard.”

“Why’s that?”

Oikawa let out a laugh but his eyes were flat. “Oh, because my parents hate me.”

Iwaizumi felt his back tense. “Why, why would you say something like that?”

“It’s true, they told me. Well, in high school they were fine with me, they just thought I was eccentric” He waved his hands to emphasize the last word. “But in college when I got worse they decided to just… write me off.”

Iwaizumi growled. “What do you mean ‘when you got worse?’”

“Well, with the whole soulmate rebellion thing. I didn’t blur my marking until I was 20, I mean, I legally couldn’t, but it finally became real for my parents then and they lost it. My mom wouldn’t stop screaming about how I’d never give her grandchildren and my dad asked if it was just an excuse to keep fucking men,” He went to laugh, but it got caught in his throat. Iwaizumi thought he saw him shaking.

“It’s fine, I tried to tell them it was fine. They already had a grandson and who’s to say I wouldn’t have children later? Biologically, with a surrogate, adoption, what mattered to me was that I had a choice,” Oikawa threw his head back, the fake smile spread overly tight. “And then my dad told me ‘oh good, Tooru, another decision you can fuck up—‘”

His voice broke. Oikawa crumpled on himself in a mess of tears, hiding his face in his hands. Iwaizumi’s whole body heated up. He was so angry—he didn’t fully understand Oikawa’s stance on soulmates either but those were his parents, they were supposed to support him.

“And he’s right,” Oikawa said from behind his hands, each word punctuated by a shaky breath, “I fuck up, I’ve fucked up, I mean I’m just a teacher, I was supposed to be this, just—I’m nothing! I let everyone down, I'll never be good enough, I’m worthless, I’m worthless…”

The anger bubbled up inside Iwaizumi until he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed Oikawa’s hands from in front of his mouth and threw them down, and took a hold on each of his shoulders. “Stop saying that! I won’t let you say that!”

Oikawa sobbed in protest. “But it’s true.”

Iwaizumi shook him until his eyes went wide. “No it isn’t! Fuck, Oikawa, you can’t say shit like that! Your parents are assholes, no one should write off their kid, especially when their kid is like you! Sure you’re obnoxious but you’re smart and you’re kind and with how hard you work at your job and your team and, hell, my situation? You’re incredible. And you're a teacher but a teacher at one of the best schools in the country and you’re only twenty-four? That’s amazing, you are a good person and you have a good full time job, how is that a fuck up? You are not a fuck up and you sure as hell aren’t worthless, do you understand?”

Iwaizumi finally stopped, his breathing was heavier than he thought. Oikawa had stopped crying, his eyes were wide but softened by tears. His body had relaxed in Iwaizumi’s grip, the only thing still trembling were his lips. “Iwa-chan…”

Iwaizumi looked back and forth between those big, teary eyes and his pink, quivering lips until he was overtaken by impulse. He crashed his mouth into Oikawa’s, sliding his hands up from his shoulders to his cheeks. He gently wiped away the lingering tears with his thumbs as Oikawa shuddered beneath him.

Suddenly Oikawa’s arms wrapped around Iwaizumi’s neck, pulling the two of them closer together. Iwaizumi inhaled deeply, out of breath from his earlier rant and the overwhelming heat between their bodies. Oikawa sighed in his mouth, snaking his fingers up into Iwaizumi’s hair. Oikawa smelled so good, he tasted so good, he felt _so good_ , Iwaizumi felt his mind going blank. He lifted himself onto his knees, swinging his leg over to straddle Oikawa, pinning him to the seat backing. Then he heard it, the breathy moan that sent his body on full alert. He dragged his hands down from Oikawa’s face to the top of his shirt and started unbuttoning as best as he could. He took Oikawa’s lower lip between his teeth and pulled back, eliciting another moan, this time accompanied by a whisper. _Iwa-chan_.

Iwaizumi froze, jerking his head back away from Oikawa, who was flushed with eyes half-lidded, not fully registering Iwaizumi’s departure. This was wrong. Iwaizumi looked around, they were still in the bar, there were people at the tables next to them. The bartender was making direct eye contact with him, giving a disapproving look. No, he had to get out of here.

He leapt off Oikawa out onto the bar floor, his legs wobbling and unsteady. Frantically he checked his pockets for his belongings before dashing out the doors into the street. He was running toward the train station. Tears were streaming down his face but he didn’t know why. He just had to get as far away from that bar as possible and as far away from Oikawa—

_Ping_.

Iwaizumi stopped dead in his tracks. Fuck, fuck, he couldn’t explain himself right now; he didn’t even have an explanation to give. The flow of foot traffic parted around him like was an island in a stream, he was aware of the dirty looks but he still couldn’t bring himself to move. How could he convince Oikawa this had nothing to do with him? Fuck, he just kissed him after all the personal stuff. Damn it, he just ran out on Oikawa having a breakdown, he had to be the worst person to have ever—

_Ping_. The reminder notification. Iwaizumi swallowed hard and swiped open the message.

>>: Hey Hajime, sorry it took so long for me to get back to you. It sounds like you have a lot on your mind right now; things must be rough. I’m actually going to be in Osaka for business in a couple of weeks. I know it’s a little out of the way for you, but maybe it would be better if we met up and talked in person. Let me know what works for you. And you know you can always call me if things get too hectic, it doesn’t matter how many years have passed.

_Sawamura Daichi._


	7. Friendly Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the last double date, Iwaizumi and Oikawa each seek out council from their friends on what to do about their not-so-budding relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA the iwadai chapter

_Ping_.

Iwaizumi didn’t even blink as his phone went off. It was about that time, nearly 7:30. He didn’t need to check the watch he started wearing to avoid his phone to verify the time. He’d gotten a text every day at this time for nearly two weeks now.

_Ping_. Ah, and there was the follow-up.

He didn’t know exactly why he was still avoiding Oikawa. The ignored texts, the new commute route, the adventures in bathtub laundry, and the guilt—especially the guilt—had become more or less habitual by this point. Golden Week was torture; Iwaizumi was too worried about accidentally running into Oikawa in town to leave his house during any normal waking hours. But the texts were the most annoying part, and the missed notifications icon on the messaging app had long surpassed triple digits. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to block him. Deep down, Iwaizumi liked the fact that Oikawa still wanted to talk to him. Oikawa was so persistent too, so stubborn, Iwaizumi liked that. He liked him.

But what could he say? ‘I’m sorry’ seemed so weak after the amount of time that had passed. The apology deserved more thought and care than Iwaizumi was capable of conveying over text, but the idea of seeing Oikawa in person… with those expressive eyes and that pretty mouth… no, Iwaizumi wasn’t ready to take on that challenge yet.

The doors opened at Katsura station and more commuters flooded onto the train. They were mostly usuals, but one lanky kid managed to squeak in through the doors right before they closed. He was tall, his muscles hadn’t filled out yet to catch up with his height. His hair was thick and cropped close to his head. His wide, cat-like eyes locked with Iwaizumi’s in horror. He wore a Horikawa Academy blazer.

Koike. Horikawa’s setter.

Iwaizumi shifted, trying to break the intense eye contact, but the train was far too packed to allow him an escape.

“Um, you-you’re friends with Oikawa-sensei, right?” the words blurted out of Koike’s mouth. “Sir!” He added the last bit with desperate urgency.

“Yeah,” Iwazuimi choked. Even if he were willing to involve this kid in his drama, which he certainly wasn’t, the poor thing looked so anxious he just had to give him some affirmation.

“Cou-Well, um—I’m Koike Tojiro and I’m the setter for Horikawa’s team, we, we sort of met on the train a while back?”

“I remember you, Koike-kun.” Iwaizumi added a smile for extra reassurance.

It didn’t work, the kid stammered more and his ears turned bright red. “Um! Could you maybe, well, I overslept this morning—my, my mom is out of town and my dad forgot to wake me up so I ended up missing practice. Could you tell Oikawa-sensei I’m on my way? Or just— I know practice is over, I just, I just don’t want him to think I’m irresponsible…” he blushed and trailed off, but piped up again quickly. “I’m sorry! That’s a lot to ask a stranger, I’m overstepping my bounds! I’m going to see him in his office hours; I probably wont make it in time to see him before class… I just wanted to let him know sooner if possible.”

Well, this is a dilemma. Iwaizumi definitely couldn’t explain how he and Oikawa weren’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment. But Koike seemed so desperate and obviously uncomfortable, and he was willing to fight that discomfort in order to take this chance and prove his worth to Oikawa. He’s shaking and he looks like he’s about to cry, Iwaizumi thought, but he’s being more of a man than I am.

“Of course I can.” Iwaizumi pulled out his phone and opened his contacts, avoiding the string of unread messages at all costs.

“Really?” Koike’s face lit up.

“It’s no problem at all. Besides, I don’t think you have anything to worry about, he has a high opinion of you, Koike-kun.” Iwaizumi smiled at him again and Koike looked like he was going to pass out this time.

Iwaizumi finished typing out the message and sent it before the train sank underground. Koike offered him a hushed thank you, much quieter now that the glares of fellow train-goers were no longer softened by morning sunshine. Iwaizumi bowed slightly and turned his attention to his phone.

>>{Iwaizumi}: I ran into your setter Koike on the train. He had some family things and overslept. He asked me to let you know.

>>[Draft Message]: I’m really sorry about everything that’s happened. We should talk soon. Please.

He stared at the draft until the train reached his stop. He pocketed his phone without hitting send and readied himself for another grueling day without a backbone.

 

 ---------------------------------

The rest of the morning went on uneventfully. Hanamaki had been pretty quiet since Iwaizumi’s change in demeanor. The first day Iwaizumi’s phone went off multiple times without him answering prompted a characteristically tasteless joke from Hanamaki, but Iwaizumi’s vague and half-hearted response shut him up quickly. Now every time his phone rang, Iwaizumi thought he saw Hanamaki wince. The new silence between them made the days drag out even more.

Lunchtime left Iwaizumi with fewer options now that another lockdown alienated him from the programmers and Kindaichi. So he was surprised to see Kenma slink past the doorway of his cubicle toward the front desk.

“Oi! Kenma?”

The shorter man flinched, sighing before he reluctantly looked away from his phone. “Ah, Hajime, what’s up?”

“I thought the programmers were still on lockdown this week?”

“Yeah, they decided to give us a break today. We’ve barely left the office since Golden Week…”

Iwaizumi glanced around. The hallways were still pretty empty—maybe Kenma had left first. “What are your lunch plans?”

Kenma shrugged and looked back down at his phone. “Kuroo and I are eating with Takahiro and Issei again,” he looked up, his eyes lost in thought. “I like ramen, but going somewhere new would be nice.”

Iwaizumi chuckled. “Do you know if Kindaichi left your wing yet?”

“No, Yuutarou is still in there, he’s debugging the code in this one awkward transition scene. He should be out soon, though.”

“Great, thanks. Enjoy your lunch, Kenma!”

Kenma gave a slight wave and buried himself back into his phone as he left. Iwaizumi turned back to his desk and grabbed his lunch before dashing to the programmer’s wing. He hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Kindaichi much over the past few weeks. Maybe he could offer some good advice. Or at least provide a decent escape from the cage in Iwaizumi’ mind.

When he got to the wing, Kindaichi was closing up his laptop and saving his work on the company computer. He looked so much older now, with the bags under his eyes and the stubble sprawling down his neck. Iwaizumi smiled to himself when he pulled out a bento wrapped in a rabbit printed cloth. At least Kindaichi was holding onto to youth in some way.

Kindaichi looked up right at that moment and saw Iwaizumi smiling at him. “Ah! Iwaizumi-sem—meh—no, I mean—”

He didn’t have time to finish that thought, because Kunimi shot up from his bag at the desk next to him with what could almost be considered a smile plastered on his face. “Iwaizumi-seme? So you two are close after all.”

Both of their faces turned bright red. Kindaichi had to steady himself on his desk.

“Oi! Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Iwaizumi barked at him.

Kunimi zipped up his bag and rose slowly, sliding the bag on his shoulder. “I’ll get going.” He walked out of the room, pausing slightly as he passed Iwaizumi. “Seme.” He dashed out of the room before Iwaizumi could hit him.

Kindaichi stood shaking, still red all over from embarrassment. His eyes fixed on the floor. Iwaizumi turned to face him incredulously. “He looks so meek but he’s such a shit!”

“Yeah… he is…” Kindaichi rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Anyway, I came in here to ask if you wanted to eat together. It’s been so long since we’ve hung out, you know?”

Kindaichi finally looked back at him, the redness in his face starting to fade. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

“Let’s go eat outside, the weather’s been so good lately.”

Kindaichi nodded and the two of them headed out down the block toward a small park surrounding a temple. On the way they caught up on work stuff, mostly Kindaichi complaining about his coworkers’ weird habits during their overnight stays at the office.

At the park they found an open bench and claimed it quickly. The two of them opened their bentos in unison and Kindaichi revealed one of the fanciest, most beautifully constructed lunches Iwaizumi had ever seen.

“Wow, Kindaichi did you make this? I don’t remember you being any good at cooking!”

“Jeez, thanks,” Kindaichi looked away, lightly blushing. “Actually, Ya-chan made this for me. She’s been making lunches for me all week.”

“It looks amazing, are they always this beautiful?” Kindaichi nodded. “She must be super talented!”

“Well, she is a chef after all…” Kindaichi trailed off, rolling his chopsticks between his hands.

Iwaizumi noticed the tension shift between them. He hadn’t talked to Kindaichi about his soulmate since the two of them met. Maybe he wasn’t being supportive enough. “How are things between you two?”

“They’ve been pretty good, actually,” the words came out with a sigh. Kindaichi smiled a little. “She’s really smart, she went to a national university, you know, but she decided she loved cooking so much that she wanted to pursue that instead.” His voice grew louder and his hands started flitting around as his excitement grew. “And you know, she was super nervous about telling her mom—her mom is like this big powerful designer—but she was actually really supportive and helped her find a good apprenticeship in the city and that’s how she started working with Kuroo. He thinks she’s a food genius—he told me—but she refuses to listen she just worries so much about little mistakes that almost always aren’t even there. She’s such a perfectionist, like every day she asks if I have any critiques of her cooking and of course I don’t, like you said I can’t cook for shit—“ Kindaichi stopped short. “I’m sorry! I’m talking too much.”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “No you’re not, don’t worry. It sounds like you really like her, I’m happy for you.”

“I still don’t know her very well… but I do. I really like her.” Kindaichi bit his lip and looked down at the lunch he was holding. A smile spread across his face, but it slowly retracted into a pout. Iwaizumi was about to ask what was wrong when he spoke. “I’m sorry if this is bothering you, I know we don’t usually talk about, you know…”

“Kindaichi, I’m not going to fall apart at the slightest mention of soulmates.” Iwaizumi nudged him in the ribs and Kindaichi jumped a little. “It’s been six years, I’m stronger than you think I am.”

“It’s not that I think you’re weak! I’d never think that! I just don’t want you to think I’m rubbing this in your face or something…”

A small silence fell over them, but it didn’t last long.

Ping.

Iwaizumi cringed, burying his head in his hands. Kindaichi furrowed his brows in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s, well…” Iwaizumi sighed. Now was as good of a time as ever. “Do you know anything about that guy that lives in my town? The teacher? I know Hanamaki has a big mouth.”

“I’ve, um, heard some things…”

“I thought so.” Iwaizumi leaned against the back of the bench, letting his head loll backwards. “So, we were friends, sort of. And he was trying to help me start dating again since I’ve kind of given up on all that. A few weeks ago we went out with some people and…” Iwaizumi pinched his eyes closed as hard as he could. “And I kissed him and stuff got weird and now I’m avoiding him.”

Iwaizumi waited for Kindaichi to speak, his eyes still sealed shut, but nothing happened. He cracked an eye open to see Kindaichi staring at him with a bewildered expression, watching him expectantly. “That…That’s it.”

Kindaichi jumped. “Oh! Okay, um, h-how did stuff get weird?”

“He was telling me about his family and stuff, I don’t know, and he started crying and I couldn’t take it I guess so I kissed him and then I ran out. I guess it’s only weird because of what I did, but I don’t know what’s going on with me. I still don’t know if I actually want to date anyone and just…”

The reminder notification went off and Iwaizumi groaned.

Kindaichi sat up more, taking a big breath before he spoke. “I think that I can’t give you any advice on this!”

Iwaizumi was taken aback. “Wait, what?”

“I don’t know enough about relationships and I think these are all decisions that you should make on your own! But, I still want to help you in some way so if you need to talk to anyone, like you just need a soundboard, please feel free to talk to me anytime!” Kindaichi bowed in his seat, his neck beginning to flush red. “Please don’t think of me as being unsupportive! I just can’t offer you anything helpful other than through simply listening! I never even dated in high school and I only had one girlfriend in college and I didn’t really like her that much—“

“Kindaichi, you’re fine, stop bowing!” Iwaizumi pushed him back into a normal seated position, trying to ignore the stares Kindaichi’s yelling had attracted. “I really appreciate you offering to listen. That’s supportive too.”

The two of them sat eating quietly until the onlookers lost interest. After a while Kindaichi spoke up. “So, are you going to look at what he said?”

Iwaizumi choked on his food. ‘What?”

“You’re avoiding him and that’s fine. But are you going to read that last message or let it sit in your inbox forever?”

Iwaizumi hadn’t read any of the messages yet. But maybe now was the time to start. It could just be something harmless about that setter kid, after all. “No, you’re right. I’m gonna read it now.”

He pulled out his phone and opened the unread message. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh?”

Kindaichi leaned forward. “What? What does it say? What did he say?”

“It’s from Daichi, actually. Remember the captain from our high school team my third year?”

Kindaichi’s eyes sharpened. “Yeah, I remember.”

“He’s going to be in Osaka this weekend and we were planning on meeting to catch up,” Iwaizumi ruffled the back of his hair, “I told him about my situation too and he was really insistent on talking it over in person. And you know since we da—“

“Yep, he’s reliable.” Kindaichi turned his attention back into his lunch. “He’ll give you good advice and I’ll be here to listen.”

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes. He put a hand on Kindaichi’s shoulder, wanting to reassure him. “And I’m grateful I have you to listen to my complaining. Thanks again, really.”

Kindaichi blushed a little, his eyes locked onto the remains of his lunch. “You’re welcome. Now hurry up, we have to get back to the office soon.”

 

\---------------------------------

The club was surprisingly packed for a Thursday night. Shirtless men in thongs weaved through the crowd passing out drinks to the already tipsy customers. The DJ’s mix was fire, blasting through the speakers at a commanding volume. Dancers in cages winked at passersby, and the lines for the private dance rooms wrapped around bar.

But Oikawa wasn't here for a good time tonight. He slumped at the bar, stirring his cocktail absent-mindedly wishing he had something strong enough to take the edge off. The bartender kept glancing over at him between flirting with the screaming girls he served. Eventually he dragged himself over to Oikawa, greeting him with a heavy sigh.

“He still hasn’t called you, huh?”

Oikawa gripped his glass. “Actually he texted me today.”

The bartender’s thick eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh, I though you’d be happy about that.”

“It was about one of my students,” Oikawa grumbled. “He didn’t even mention the kiss, Mattsun, it’s like he’s trying to pretend it never happened!”

Mattsun shrugged as he measured out shots for the girls down the bar. “Maybe he is, maybe he just wants things to go back to normal.”

“But they can’t!”

“Why not?” Mattsun squinted his eyes. “You caught feelings? Now you’re worried he’s pulling some waste his time 2016 shit?”

“Do not quote memes at me,” Oikawa growled, downing his drink. “Are Kenji and Yuu-chan on break yet, I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

He laughed and checked his watch as he garnished the drinks. “Actually they should be going now. You better sneak into the back quick before Saeko catches you.”

“She-devil…” Oikawa got up from the stool and went to leave but Mattsun yelled after him.

“Hey! What’s this, no tip?”

Oikawa glowered at him, giving him a once over before speaking. “Pluck, don’t wax. And shape from below.” He gestured at his own eyebrows for emphasis and Mattsun burst into laughter.

Oikawa snaked his way through the crowd until he reached the hidden door tucked away beside the main stage. He groped the wall for the handle and pushed himself through as quickly as possible to avoid attention. He walked down the bare concrete hallway with his eyes unfocused until he reached the dressing room. He was fuzzy and woozy from too much alcohol but what he saw was enough to snap his mind and body into full attention.

Futakuchi was sitting on the red velvet chaise with Terushima straddling him and sucking on his neck with full vigor. Both of them were still dressed in their work uniforms, which consisted of no more than black pants and silk ties, and Futakuchi had Terushima’s tie wrapped tightly around his fist, pulling his body in closer. Terushima’s pants were mostly off at this point and Futakuchi’s other hand was stroking his length at an agonizingly slow pace. Oikawa screamed to get their attention.

“DIDN’T YOU GUYS JUST GO ON BREAK?! HOW HAVE YOU GOTTEN THIS FAR ALREADY!?”

Neither of them so much as flinched at his intrusion. Futakuchi looked annoyed more than anything and Terushima licked his lips, pulling himself off of Futakuchi’s lap and sat down beside him. “We work at a strip club, Tooru, I’m pretty much hard my whole shift.”

Oikawa winced, covering the view with his hands. “I can see that, can you pull yourself together, please?”

Terushima smirked. “Oh, but you used to love this view so much.”

“GODDAMN IT YUU-CHAN, PUT YOUR PENIS AWAY!”

“Come on, Teru,” Futakuchi chided as he straightened out his own tie. “Ready yourself, it looks like we have another therapy session to conduct.”

“Ugh,” Terushima groaned, begrudgingly pulling up his pants. “Buff businessman drama again? Still?”

“That’s not very supportive,” Oikawa snapped at him. He threw himself into one of the swiveling chairs lined up in front of the mirrors, pulling his knees up to his chest to form a ball.

“Alright, Oikawa, you have our undivided attention, what’s wrong?”

Oikawa sighed. “Well, it is about Iwa-chan…”

“Nooo, really?” Terushima rolled his eyes. Futakuchi punched him in the shoulder. “Ignore Teru. What happened this time? Did something happen this time?”

“He texted me today.”

“Oh shit! A development!” Terushima leaned forward, his interest piqued.

Futakuchi shot him a dirty look before he started. “So he finally answered you?”

“No!” Oikawa crossed his arms and covered his face. His voice came out muffled. “He texted me about Koike-kun.”

“Your setter?” Terushima asked. “That’s random.”

Futakuchi followed up. “What about him?”

“Apparently Koike-kun was running late this morning and ran into him on the train and he asked him to text me to let me know.”

Terushima tilted his head. “Is that true or was he like lying to try to talk to you?”

“No, it was true, Koike-kun came to the office later to talk to me about it.” Oikawa lifted his face and revealed the tears forming in his eyes. “The first time he talks to me in weeks and it’s on behalf of a student.”

Terushima made a face at Futakuchi and he nodded, taking the lead. “Well, Oikawa,” Futakuchi tried to choose his words carefully, “there is a chance we all misread what was going on between you guys. Maybe it’s time to consider the idea that he’s not interested in having a relationship with you—“

“But he’s the one who kissed me!” Oikawa blurted out, his hands balling up into fists. “It’s not fair! It’s not fair that he gets to do this to me! He doesn’t get to use his hang-ups as an excuse to treat me like this!” The tears started falling from his eyes. “Not after what he said to me…”

Futakuchi shot a look to Terushima. “Okay, okay, I’m getting the tissues, god.” He got up, mumbling to himself about how annoying Oikawa was when he was drunk.

Futakuchi scooted over and patted the cushion next to him. Oikawa leapt up and threw himself on the chaise, crying into Futakuchi’s shoulder.

Terushima returned with a box of tissues and sat down on Oikawa’s other side, putting his arm around his shoulder. “Hey, now don’t get so worked up. It’s not like he was as hot as me, right?”

Futakuchi looked at him with eyes that could kill a man, but Oikawa’s quiet voice prevented the murder. “It’s not even about that… he was just so… comfortable.”

Oikawa nuzzled into Futakuchi’s shoulder and the formerly murderous eyes dropped down, transforming into soothing ones. “I know, I know. It sucks, but we’re gonna get you through this, okay?”

“Hm,” Oikawa hummed into Futakuchi’s chest. “He just… no one’s ever treated me like he did, like, how he did before all this. He’d say dumb, mean things but he’d listen to me and he made it sound like he actually cared about me… The idea of being with him just felt so… right, you know?”

Terushima stared at Futakuchi, who was gently stroking Oikawa’s hair. He swallowed hard. “Yeah, I know.”

He turned his face down and kissed the top of Oikawa’s head, pulling the three of them into a group hug. “It’s gonna be okay, Tooru. We’re gonna talk to you about this tomorrow when you’re sober and sort this out.”

Oikawa pouted. “I’m not drunk.”

“Sure, sure,” Terushima and Futakuchi said in unison, sparking the fight in their friend who had now stopped crying and started whining, defending his sobriety through slurred words and poorly timed hiccups.

Futakuchi nodded at Terushima, and his eyes lit up in anticipation. “Is that so Tooru, you’re totally sober? Should we order more to drunk then?” Oikawa screamed so loudly in Futakuchi’s ear that he nearly threw him onto the floor. Oikawa’s sadness had come to a close; the duo had succeeded in consoling him once again. But Terushima had meant what he said. Once Oikawa had sobered up, they planned on resolving this issue once and for all.

 

\-------------------------------- 

_Umeda station connects to Osaka station somehow, right?_ Iwaizumi studied the subway map on the platform with tense interest. He’d never gone in to Osaka before, work kept him either too preoccupied or too exhausted to explore.

Daichi said his hotel was close to the city center and they could meet up at the café the lobby for coffee to catch up, but the directions he gave Iwaizumi started from Osaka station, not Umeda. Maybe he should have coughed up the extra yen for a JRail ticket instead of Hankyu. Then again he might be able to figure it out from here, but that would require him having any knowledge of the streets above him, for example, what exit he’d leave from and how far away from each other these two piece of crap stations really were.

Eventually someone saw him lost and confused and pointed him in the right direction. Osaka station was massive, bigger than Kyoto station and Iwaizumi had a hard enough time navigating there. But inside Osaka station was like an airport terminal and a mall combined, with new hallways and wings forking off in every direction. Luckily, Daichi had taken this labyrinth into account when he started his set of directions, so Iwaizumi knew the southwest exit could be found next to the women’s accessories store with the Sailor Moon campaign.

Once outside, the rest was easy. The hotel was large, gray, and conspicuously marked with a royal blue sign extending along about maybe five or six stories. Iwaizumi managed the five-way intersection and crossed the threshold of the lobby doors, where inside he saw Daichi waiting for him.

It’d been years since he’d seen him in person, they met up once during college to catch up in a similar situation, but Daichi looked almost exactly the same. He was still broad, he still had his crew cut hair, and he still had the warmest, most comforting smile Iwaizumi had ever seen. But he looked older for sure. A few faint wrinkles flanked his eyes, and it almost looked like the sides of his hair were lightening, as if he was about to start prematurely graying and Iwaizumi had to admit, it just made him hotter.

“Hajime,” Daichi’s smile widened, “I’m glad you made it here alright.”

Iwaizumi scratched the back of his head. “It wasn’t so bad once I figured out how the stations connected,” he chuckled. “How’ve you been? You look great.”

Daichi laughed. “Thanks! I’m good, I’m busy, and work is insane, and I’ve spent more time this past week going back and forth to Kobe than I would have liked, but I’m good.”

“Kobe? That’s not too far, but it’s still a haul. Why didn’t your company just lodge you there?”

“Our Kansai headquarters is technically in Osaka,” Daichi shrugged, “and Kobe has one of our fastest developing branches. But if I do take this job offer I’ll be making that trip pretty often, they said maybe two or three times a month for three days at a time? It’s hectic.”

Iwaizumi stopped him. “Job offer?”

“Oh yeah, my company is thinking of transferring me to Osaka to work in the main office in a supervising engineer position, in which I’d work at headquarters and relay relevant business developments between them and our Kobe branch, and mostly just keep an eye on Kobe. It’s seeming more and more like a high-stakes babysitting gig.”

“That sounds amazing, and you’d be putting all that old captain experience to good use.”

Daichi’s face darkened. “I don’t know what’s worse, seventeen adult electrical engineers designing an entire transformer to the wrong scale or four first years trying to pick a fight with the top school in the prefecture.”

“Is it worth all that trouble?” Iwaizumi teased.

Daichi shrugged again, adding a laugh. “I’m not sure yet. The pay is definitely better and Suga thinks I’d be an idiot to pass up this opportunity for my career.” He stretched back, pulling on the front of his collar, “but it’s only late May and this heat? Already? And soon the rains will start and I don’t know if I’m up for all that.”

“In Osaka’s defense, it’s been hotter than usual the past couple of days. Stop being such a weak salaryman.” Iwaizumi nudged him in the arm.

Daichi nudged back. “You’re just trying to bully me into moving here, I see right through you.” The two men laughed, falling back into step with their old routine. “Let’s go get some coffee so I can hear about how you’re doing.”

The two of them walked to the café off the side of the lobby. Both of them insisted on paying, but after a round of janken Daichi emerged the victor. He ordered the coffees while Iwaizumi found a table

“When you were talking about your job earlier you mentioned someone named Suga, that’s your soulmate?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Daichi’s face softened. “

“What’s he like?”

“Suga—oh, um, Sugawara is his full name—Suga is good, he’s very, very good. I’m really happy with him and I wish you could meet him, actually,” Daichi broke off in a small laugh, “He’s kind of hard to fully explain.”

Iwaizumi wrung his hands in front of him. “I bet he’s great if he’s with you.”

There was a small silence before Daichi started talking again. “So, how are you? How’s your work, the new job and everything?”

“Work is crazy, I’ve had about six days off in the past two months,” Iwaizumi laughed, dropping his face into his hands. “Except we did have a party a few weeks back, the day I texted you actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Daichi took a sip of his coffee. “What was the party for, like a successful bid?”

“No, actually it was more of a spontaneous thing. You see one of our programmers is dating a chef and he had to make cake samples for this wedding and they had a lot of samples left over, right? So they brought in the extra cakes and we all just kind of stopped working for the afternoon.”

Daichi nodded, his eyebrows rising in a taunt. “Sounds like a productive place.”

“We never leave the office,” Iwaizumi shot him a look of feigned anger, “it was a party out of desperation.”

Daichi laughed. “Sure, sure.”

Iwaizumi thought for a second. “Actually, I think it was Kindaichi who set the whole thing up—and Kindaichi ended up meeting his soulmate there, that’s when things really got out of hand.”

“Kindaichi?” Daichi scrunched his face in thought. “Kindaichi Yuutarou? The tall radish middle blocker from high school who was in love with you?”

“Yeah, tha—“ Iwaizumi stopped short, his jaw dropping open. “Wait, in love with me?”

“Yeah, head over heels, I’m pretty sure he hated me since we were dating,” Daichi’s laugh deepened when he saw the shock on Iwaizumi’s face. “You seriously didn’t know?”

“N-no, he couldn’t be, we’re just friends!”

“Sadly for him.”

“Daichi!” Iwaizumi barked.

“No, I’m serious. I mean that kid idolized you in high school, followed you to college, and somehow got you to follow him across the country after he graduated.”

Iwaizumi dropped his head back in his hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“Oh, believe it. I wish I had proof of the dirty looks he’d give me during practice.”

Iwaizumi looked up at him and grimaced. “You don’t think he’s still in love with me, do you?”

Daichi laughed again. “God, I hope not, but hey, you never know.”

Iwaizumi groaned. “Christ, I feel terrible, do you think I led him on?”

“Not on purpose, it was probably just your natural charm.”

“Shut up, Dai.”

“I’m being serious!” Daichi finished his coffee and set down the mug, clasping his hands in front of him. “Speaking of being serious, are you ready to talk about it?”

Iwaizumi covered his face. “I don’t know.”

“I can help start you off. How about you tell me about the guy you’re thinking about dating.”

Iwaizumi’s head whipped up. “I never said that!”

“Actually that’s exactly what you said,” Daichi reached into his pocket and took out his phone. “I can show you in a second.”

Iwaizumi slapped his hand away. “Stop it! Jesus, you don’t need to show me that,” He took a deep breath and exhaled, running his hands through his hair. “I-I kissed him.”

Daichi nodded expectantly. “Okay, good, and then what?”

“And then I ran away.”

“You ran away?!” Daichi yelled a bit too loudly, momentarily losing his cool, “What are you, five?!”

“I didn’t know what to do! It just happened and I’m not sure if I’m ready for that yet!”

“Jesus Christ, when did this happen?”

Iwaizumi looked off to the side. “Two weeks ago.”

Daichi lowered his head and laughed without humor. “Goddamn, Hajime, are you sure you’re not actively trying to fuck this up?”

“I’m not sure actually, maybe I am!” Iwaizumi fisted his hands in his hair. “This is insane, I haven’t felt like this before, this guy is making me crazy, he’s turning me into a crazy person!”

Daichi’s lips twitched slightly, intrigued. “What has he said about the kiss?”

“I don’t know.” Iwaizumi rubbed his eyes and let his hands settle there, covering his face again.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

His voice came out muffled. “I haven’t talked to him since.”

Daichi furrowed his brows. A disapproving look took over his features. “Oh no, so it’s just been silence between you two.”

“Well he’s been texting and calling me every day, but I haven’t answered him.”

Daichi covered his own face in his hands and breathed deeply. He jerked upright and clapped, rubbing his hands together. “Okay, okay, we’re going to change tactics before I hit you—”

“No!” Iwaizumi cringed, clasping his hands together and resting his chin on top. “There’s more.”

“Of course there is.”

“Before I kissed him, we were talking about his nephew and then the rest of his family and he started saying some really serious stuff,” Iwaizumi’s voice started growing frantic as he continued, “I don’t know if he even meant to tell me any of it, I mean the guy was pretty wasted, but it was bad, Dai. He told me how his parents disowned him because of his lifestyle and how they always called him a fuck up then he started saying he was a fuck up and then he started crying and I didn’t know what to do. Everything he was saying was so insane and wrong and I just had to get him to stop crying and I don’t know what—“

“Hajime.” Daichi’s voice came out soft, instantly settling Iwaizumi’s nerves.

“I’m sorry, I know I was rambling, It’s just—“

Daichi ignored him, interrupting again. “What’s his name?”

“Oikawa.”

“You really like him, don’t you?”

Iwaizumi looked away, rubbing his temples. “I don’t… fuck, I don’t know.”

Daichi smiled. “What do you like about him?”

“I said I don’t know if I like him, Dai!“ Iwaizumi sat stiff in his chair as protest, but Daichi just stared at him expectantly. Minutes went by; Iwaizumi finally caved. “He’s…” Iwaizumi grabbed at the air, “frustrating.”

“You like frustrating men?”

Iwaizumi stared at Daichi head on. “Obviously,” but he continued, “No, he’s frustrating but not in a bad way. He always challenges me, and sometimes that pisses me off. But other times he’s so ridiculous I just laugh at him, and other times he can be really serious, it’s almost terrifying. Like the first time he told me about the Unmarked—” Iwaizumi stopped short. He’d never explained Oikawa’s subculture to anyone before, and now he wasn’t sure he if really could.

“What’s the Unmarked?” But now he was going to have to. “Is that the lifestyle thing you mentioned before?”

“Yeah, it is… I don’t really understand it. From what I know, it’s a group of people who—for many reasons—obscure their markings so they aren’t involved in the soulmate… thing.”

“Like, they just don’t want to find their soulmate? Or?”

“Well, sort of. I know Oikawa’s reasoning is that he doesn’t want anything or anyone to control his fate but him. He wants to choose the person he loves without any guidance or bias.”

Daichi nodded. “I can respect that.”

“And he wants me to do the same.”

“I can definitely respect that.”

“It’s not that easy, Dai.” Iwaizumi set his fists on the table. “Wouldn’t it be like settling for a lesser relationship?”

Daichi drew his breath in sharp through his teeth. “I wouldn’t say that exactly. Wouldn’t it involve more choice? You wouldn’t choose a lesser form of something, right?”

“You sound like Oikawa now.”

“Does Oikawa lecture you too?”

“Only about this stuff. Incessantly. And it’s more like he tries but mostly he gets carried away then just forces me to do things like blind dates and stuff.”

“Against your will? Sounds contradictory.”

“No, eventually I guess I just give in—“

Daichi raised an eyebrow “Settling for something lesser?”

Iwaizumi hit the table. “Will you stop?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Daichi laughed. “But, honestly, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with choosing a lover, it can make you really happy, soulmate or not.”

“But you have Sugawara now.”

“I do, but it’s not like I’ve never been in love before.” Daichi looked away nervously and Iwaizumi felt his face flush.

Iwaizumi’s voice came out quiet. “Is it different with Sugawara?”

“It’s… hard to explain,” Daichi paused for a moment before speaking again. “I love Suga very much, I want to spend the rest of my life with him and when I’m with him it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. But, in a way, I guess you can say that about every new relationship. To be honest, when I was with you I’d never felt that way before, and I’ve never felt that way since.”

Iwaizumi felt his chest tighten. The words came out on their own. “I really loved you, I even thought I could’ve run off and married you”

Daichi smiled. “I thought the same thing too”

“But now you have Sugawara and you’re going to marry hi—“

Daichi cut him off. “Suga is great, better than great. But I don’t know for sure we’re going to get married. It’s not even legal yet; we’d have to have an unofficial ceremony or to make it official we’d need to leave the country. That’s a lot of planning I can’t just expect—“ He took another breath to gather his thoughts. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you to learn that your soulmate had passed. And I mean that literally, I’ve met Suga and we’re together now, and hopefully we will be for a long time, so I can’t even begin to understand your position. But for what it’s worth, I think it’s pretty amazing that you’ve found someone who’s so determined to decide his own life and help you do the same. And despite what you say, from what you told me about this kiss incident, there’s definitely something between you two. It’s something I can’t believe you’re actually running away from, but then again… ”

Daichi laughed and fiddled absent-mindedly with a sugar packet as he continued. “It’s weird to think about it, you know? That Suga and I are linked by fate, it makes it feel like there won’t be problems between us, or that no matter what we’ll work things out and be together. But I don’t think some outside force makes it all happen. We’re going to be together because we want to and we’re going to work through our issues because I love him and he loves me. Maybe it’s comforting to know that there’s sort of a confirmation out there, but it still requires effort and trust from both parties. It’s still not easy and it takes a lot of work…”

He fell silent for a bit before snapping his head up, his gaze lucid. “There is one easy part though.”

“Hm? What’s that?”

“Can you admit to yourself that you do like him? That you do have feelings for him?”

Iwaizumi sat for a while. He knew the answer but still it was difficult to admit flat out. “Yes.”

“Then you should at least give yourself a chance to be happy. Even if you think somehow it’s a ‘lesser’ choice. And if that’s the case you just need to work on your decision-making skills.”

Iwaizumi slowly broke into laughter. “Fuck, Dai, when did you get so aged and wise?”

“Please, Hajime, the word you are looking for is mature and I’ve always been too mature for you.”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and his face settled into a worried frown. “But what am I going to do about the whole running away thing? He was so vulnerable when I kissed him and now I feel like I abandoned him. And I’ve been avoiding him,” he groaned, “Fuck I’ve just made it worse.”

“There’s nothing we can do about what’s already done,” Daichi crossed his arms, which combined with his authoritative tone vaguely reminded Iwaizumi of their high school days. “What we can do is move forward. You said he’s been calling and messaging you every day, right? That means we know he’s still interested in at least talking to you. You just have to answer him now… Hajime?”

Iwaizumi’s face had gone blank. He’d gotten so used to the messages that they’d become a part of the backdrop of his daily routine, almost like a metronome with the consistent ring at the same times every day. But he’d grown too used to them, so much in fact that he didn’t notice their absence.

He reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone as a worried Daichi watched in stilled confusion. He opened the message log he’d been avoiding for so long. The last one he’d received was from two days before.

>>[Oikawa]: I’m sorry I’ve been harassing you, Iwaizumi. But don’t worry. I’m done.


	8. Addressing the Sensei Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi has finally come to terms with his feelings. Now he just has to get Oikawa to talk to him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to get this up so long ago? A lot of absolutely insane stuff has happened to me this past month but I've finally got this one finished. And to those of you who've stuck around, the next few chapters will make it all worth it, I promise.

It seemed the last of the nightly chill of spring had come and gone and hot summer nights had settled in Kyoto. Iwaizumi dragged himself down the steps of the train station, another long day at the office logged. His clothes were still wet from getting caught in the earlier rainstorm—rain that still did nothing to alleviate the unseasonable heat wave—and all he wanted to do was go home, shower, eat, and pass out before starting the grueling cycle again the next day. He just had to make one quick stop at the convenience store to pick up some long awaited dinner before his evening plans could commence.

 

While waiting at the crosswalk Iwaizumi checked his phone for the umpteenth time that evening. He still hadn’t heard anything from Oikawa, not even since he’d starting texting him multiple times a day. It’d been over a week since Oikawa sent him that last, spiteful message and now Iwaizumi couldn’t stop himself from reading it and the other hundreds of messages over and over whenever he had the chance. He could tell which ones Oikawa wrote when he was drinking, when he was sneaking away at work, when he was on the train, etc. his syntax and cadence followed the same patterns they did when the two of them would text normally, despite the drastically different, repetitive subject matter. Iwaizumi liked that he could recognize that, that he knew Oikawa’s behaviors and quirks this well already. What he didn’t like was that he could also identify the messages Oikawa wrote while crying.

 

In those ones he was more spiteful, yet still vulnerable and unabashedly desperate. Those ones made Iwaizumi’s chest ache in the worst way. He caused Oikawa that pain and he’d been too afraid to do anything about it. Now it might be too late. Iwaizumi shook the thought away and typed out another apology before crossing the street.

 

He reached the Dawson’s threshold as the automatic doors opened in front of him. He nearly slammed into the person walking out, both of them uttering rushed apologies before the recognition sunk in. Iwaizumi’s heart rose up into his throat.

 

“Oi…Oikawa?”

 

Oikawa looked away, fixing his mouth into a pout. “Iwaizumi.”

 

No ‘Iwa-chan.’ Iwaizumi had to admit that stung. “I was hoping I’d run into you sometime.”

 

“The feeling isn’t mutual,” Oikawa scoffed. He shifted his glance to the other side, avoiding Iwaizumi’s stare at all costs.

 

“And you have every right to feel that way, I know.” Iwaizumi chewed at his lip. “I’m really sorry for what I put you through, I don’t know what was going on with me and—“

 

“Save it.” Oikawa pushed past him, stopping briefly. “I should have known better before getting involved with you. You’re too damaged for any relationships. I’m sorry if I forced anything on you.”

 

The blood boiled under Iwaizumi’s skin. The nerve of this guy…

 

“Hey!” Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa’s arm and spun him around. “You didn’t force anything on me. This isn’t your fault; this was my mistake—“ Uh-oh, wording.

 

Oikawa grabbed his hand and threw it down. “Mistake, huh?” He looked up at Iwaizumi, his pupils shrunken and his expression as flattened and hostile as Iwaizumi had ever seen it. “Well, then. I’ll make sure that you never have the option of making the same mistake again.”

 

He turned away and Iwaizumi thought he saw the hard line of his mouth break into a grimace. “Oikawa, wait! I didn’t mean—“

 

But it was too late. Oikawa’s long strides had taken him to the corner already and the light changed just in time for him to make his escape across the street. Iwaizumi thought about running after him, but what was the point? He couldn’t get through to him tonight. Oikawa was stubborn, and this evening’s run-in wouldn’t help Iwaizumi’s case. But he’d keep trying, tomorrow, and the next day, into the next week and month if he had too.

 

Plus, he knew deep down Oikawa felt the same way he did. He had the messages to prove it.

 

* * *

 

Inside Sakusa & Associates was like a goddamn sauna. It was too early in the season for the company to justify turning on the a/c yet, and Iwaizumi felt himself melting into his chair, his shirt now one with his skin. Hanamaki wasn’t holding up well either. He finished his fourth bottled water in a row and pressed his head against his desk fan, lifting his collar so the air could reach under his shirt.

 

“Man, this is balls. This heat wave has got to go.” He unbuttoned the front of his shirt. “What happened to May? Where’s that wonderful weather? Did Al Gore personally deliver global warming to Japan out of spite or something?”

 

“I don't think it works like that.” Iwaizumi pressed the now liquid ice pack against his head in hope of getting some relief.

 

Hanamaki threw his head back in anguish. “It’s hotter in here than it is outside! A 32 degree work environment is unlawful!”

 

“My thermometer says 30.”

 

“Whatever, that’s still hotter than outside.” Hanamaki stood up, his chair rolling back into the wall. “Do you want to go break for lunch now? Mattsun was held up pretty late at work last night so we’re not meeting up today.”

 

Iwaizumi cocked his brow. “Oh, so no Teramachi ramen place today?”

 

“No, my dear, we can go anywhere in Kyoto that your heart desires. But preferably something cold like ice cream, do you want ice cream for lunch?”

 

“I’m too hot to even eat anything right now.” Iwaizumi patted his stomach for emphasis.

 

“That may be true, but we gotta get out of here, man, before we sweat so much we short circuit our computers.”

 

“Shouldn’t they have the air conditioner on then?” Iwaizumi asked. “I mean, what if the computers overheat?”

 

“They have it on in the programmer wing, lucky bastards,” Hanamaki shot a look over his shoulder, “they are considered more essential and precious than us. Hence why we are left here to die.”

 

Iwaizumi leaned back and groaned. “It’s just gonna get worse as the season goes on too.”

 

Hanamaki walked over and pulled Iwaizumi out of his chair. “And that’s why we have to make our escape now, Iwaizumi. They can’t take our sanity” He gripped his shoulders and put on the worst Scottish accent he could muster. “And they can’t take our freedom!”

 

“Your sanity is long gone, my friend.” Iwaizumi laughed, and grabbed the hand on his shoulder. “You’re right though. Let’s go, I’m tired of this place.”

 

The two of them made their escape from the office and Hanamaki was right: it was cooler outside, but only just. They decided on eating at an American style restaurant, close proximity to the office and guaranteed air conditioning making the decision for them. The hostess guided them to a booth right below a vent, thankfully, and Iwaizumi grumbled to himself as he perused the menu.

 

“Is something wrong?” Hanamaki asked, stretching his arms out to get the full blast of the a/c on his chest.

 

“No, it’s fine. There’s not a lot of Japanese food here, though,” Iwaizumi mused, flipping the page to reveal another disappointment.

 

“Well, duh. This is supposed to be an American place, like, oh what’s the word…” Hanamaki scratched his temple in thought. “Oh! A diner, that’s what they’re called. I think.”

 

“What’s a diner?”

 

“It’s a place like this, where they serve pancakes and omelets and stuff. And ice cream, which I wasn’t joking about, I’m definitely ordering it.”

 

Iwaizumi grunted, his eyebrows gathering in thought. “Why would they have a place like this in Kyoto, though…”

 

Hanamaki shrugged. “Maybe foreigners want something familiar to eat.”

 

“If they’re in Japan they should eat Japanese food.”

 

“Woah, woah,” Hanamaki leaned forward, his grin streching lopsided on his face, “Iwaizumi, don’t tell me you’re a ‘Superior Japanese’ supporter, are you?”

 

“No, I’m not!” Iwaizumi protested. “I just don’t really like foreign food, that’s all.”

 

“We can go somewhere else, we haven’t ordered yet.”

 

“No, it’s okay. The air conditioning is really nice, we should stay.”

 

“Okay, good,” Hanamaki waved over at the waitress, “Maybe you can order a hamburger or a salad or something. But unlike you I’m starving so I’m ordering now.”

 

Iwaizumi took his advice and went with the salad option, remembering the heat waiting for him at his desk. In the meantime, the waitress brought them green tea while they waited, which Iwaizumi appreciated. Hanamaki thanked her and after she departed he made his attack.

 

“So, we’re gonna talk about it.”

 

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes, draining the last bit of green tea from his cup. “Talk about what?’

 

“Your sensei problem. I’ve been quiet about it for long enough.”

 

Iwaizumi shrank back in his seat. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

 

“Sure,” Hanamaki rolled his eyes, “and denial is just a river in France.”

 

“Egypt.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“What?”

 

Hanamaki clasped his hands together and leaned across the table closer to Iwaizumi. “Listen, I know something is going on. Those two weeks of unanswered text alerts were one thing, but now you’ve been sending message after message unprompted. Plus you’ve been moping like a little bitch, so clearly whatever you’re trying isn’t working. I’ve been waiting for you to seek out my sage advice, but you’re too nervous to ask for it on your own, so I’m offering it up for free.”

 

Iwaizumi crossed his arms. “No thanks, I can do without it.”

 

“Come on, Iwaizumi. This isn’t just about you anymore. You’re somber attitude has been bumming me out, it’s affecting my work ethic.”

 

“Then go work somewhere else,” Iwaizumi snarled.

 

Hanamaki raised an eyebrow. “Is that any way to talk to your senpai?”

 

“Oh, shit, I mean—“

 

“Relax, Iwaizumi, I’m busting your balls,” Hanamaki took a drink. “But I’m not letting you off the hook. We are talking about your sensei thing before we go back to the office or else I’m going to get a really nice personal air conditioner and a room divider so you can’t experience it.”

 

Iwaizumi shook his head. “That won’t work once they turn on the central a/c.”

 

“I’ll plug up the vent on your side,” Hanamaki scoffed. “You think I haven’t thought through this plan? You insult me.”

 

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but laugh. “Goddamn it, Hanamaki.”

 

“You better start talking before I get my men on it.”

 

“Oh you have men, now?”

 

“Of course, I’m the Godfather now, I’ve decided.”

 

Iwaizumi sighed. “Fine, I’ll talk.” Hanamaki cheered victoriously, but Iwaizumi ignored him. “So, basically I fucked up and he probably hates me now.”

 

“I could deduce that myself, Watson,” Hanamaki leaned back, resting his head in his hands. “Would you care to provide more detailed information?”

 

“I kissed him,” Iwaizumi grimaced, dropping his head, “and then I avoided him.”

 

For some reason, Hanamaki didn’t seem surprised. “And now?”

 

“And now he’s avoiding me. Honestly, I deserve it. But I fucked up and I realize that I was just scared then, you know?” Iwaizumi bit his lip. “But he won’t even let me explain that.”

 

“Then why don’t you make him listen?”

 

Iwaizumi whipped his head up incredulously. “How do you suggest I do that? He won’t answer my texts!”

 

“See him in person,” Hanamaki nearly rolled his eyes, “it’s pretty hard to ignore someone when they’re right in front of you.”

 

The waitress showed up in the middle of his speech to deliver their food; Hanamaki continued to talk around her. “Take me for example. You tried to avoid this conversation but now I’ve tricked you into it with my raw sex appeal.”

 

The waitress shot him a look. Hanamaki winked at her and she made a disgusted face, dropping his bowl in front of him and walking away without any further comment. Iwaizumi covered his face. “You’re such an embarrassment, man.”

 

Hanamaki shrugged, digging into his ice cream. “Ah, it doesn't bother me. She isn’t my type, anyway. You, on the other hand…” He scooped up a bit of whipped cream and slowly licked it off the spoon, making a lewd face at Iwaizumi the whole time. Iwaizumi reached over and swatted the spoon out of his hands.

 

“That was uncalled for!” Hanamaki yelled as he narrowly saved his spoon from sliding off the table on to the floor.

 

“Your whole personality is uncalled for,” Iwaizumi countered.

 

“How can you be so rude when I’m giving you advice?”

 

“Unsolicited advice,” Iwaizumi corrected him.

 

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” Hanamaki nodded, wiping off his spoon before he continued his meal, “but I think it’s still pretty good advice. You know where he works, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, why don’t you meet him there, like at the end of the day. Because the only place he can run away to is home really, and you two kind of share that travel path.”

 

Iwaizumi squinted. “That sounds like I’m trapping him.”

 

“Now, why do you have to go and put a dark spin on my innocent plan?”

 

“Haven’t we talked about how you and innocence are mutually exclusive?”

 

Hanamaki grabbed his chest. “Wow, Iwaizumi. Hit a man with the statistical burns.”

 

Iwaizumi took a breath and held it before letting it go. “Do you think that would really work though? I mean he could just run away to a bar or something.”

 

Hanamaki opened his mouth to say something but stopped, apparently changing his mind. “We… don’t know if he’ll do that for sure. But at least in this scenario he has to acknowledge you in some way. Especially if you block off the exit.”

 

“Okay, that’s definitely trapping him.”

 

“It was a joke, Iwaizumi, god,” Hanamaki rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “I still think you should try it. If anything, it’d be nice to see him in person again, wouldn’t it?”

 

Iwaizumi’s chest tightened. Their encounter the night before, brief as it was, was almost a relief. Subconsciously, Iwaizumi was worried he might forget the way Oikawa’s bangs swept across his face, or the way his nose crinkled with every facial expression, or how his lips pouted out whenever he wasn’t forcing himself to smile. Oikawa looked the same, maybe a bit angrier and tired, and somehow it was refreshing. And if anything it made Iwaizumi want to see him again, which may be why he was entertaining this half-baked idea in the first place.

 

“Yeah, it would be,” Iwaizumi mumbled, maybe a little too honestly.

 

“So, do we have a plan then, buddy?”

 

“Sure, it’s a plan.”

 

“Great!’ Hanamaki clapped his hands together. “Now what time are you heading over there tonight?”

 

“Tonight?” Iwaizumi balked.

 

“We have to strike while the iron’s hot, and by ‘iron’ I mean your tendency to back out on issues that pertain to the heart. Plus the more time that passes, the angrier sensei is going to get. Tonight is your best bet.”

 

“Well,” Iwaizumi shifted uncomfortably in the booth, “he said he’s usually at the school until about 8 or 9 because of volleyball practice and paperwork.”

 

“You should probably plan on getting there a little bit before 8 then, catch him before the earliest possible departure plan,” Hanamaki mused, his expression as serious as it was on a sales call. “What time to you need to leave the office in order to get there at, let’s say, 7:50?”

 

“He teaches at Horikawa so—“

 

“Horikawa?” Hanamaki blinked rapidly, showing the first sign of surprise throughout the whole conversation. “Iwaizumi, that’s only seven blocks away from the office!”

 

“Oh, it’s that close?”

 

Hanamaki lowered his head, running his hands through his hair. “You—you know what that’s perfect. That means I won’t have to cover any work for you,” he looked up, “you will get everything done by 7:30 right, like, you are capable of that?”

 

“Of course I am, I’m a faster worker than you are!”

 

“Don’t remind me,” Hanamaki groaned, checking his watch. “Speaking of work, we better finish and head back soon or else we’ll be expected to do overtime to make up for break extension.” Hanamaki looked across the table and saw Iwaizumi’s almost completely untouched salad. “Dude…”

 

“I’ll finish it, god!”

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi still felt nervous about taking Hanamaki’s advice, even if Daichi had seconded it via text. He left the office at 7:35, holding out a bit longer than Hanamaki suggested, so that way he’d possibly catch Oikawa in passing. That way they could maybe walk together; movement might help to ease the tension.

 

Iwaizumi still reached Horikawa Academy by 7:50, his nervousness spurring his strides along faster.

 

The school building itself was pretty imposing; it looked more like a fancy hotel than any high school Iwaizumi had ever seen. Amazingly, security was easy enough to get through after mentioning Oikawa’s name, and soon he was crossing the back courtyard to the gyms, the sounds of shoes squeaking on hardwood and the smack of volleyballs growing ever louder, as if calling him in.

 

Once he reached the gym doors, Iwaizumi was hit with a wave of nostalgia. The energy inside was undeniable mixed with the scent of sweat, musty diving practice mats, and salonpas. A practice match was underway, and checking the score clued Iwaizumi in that it’d been going on for a while now. Oikawa stood at the sideline, too wrapped up in the game to notice Iwaizumi’s intrusion. His unblinking eyes never left the court as he scribbled fervently on his clipboard, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. He looked so invested and serious that Iwaizumi felt his chest swell. The man standing next to Oikawa, however, was a bit more tuned in to the happenings outside of the court and soon he was walking towards Iwaizumi.

 

“Can I help you?” His voice was low and curt, and his feigned politeness failed to mask a waiting hostility.

 

 _He must be the assistant coach, Yahaba…_ “Sorry, I’m not interrupting, am I?”

 

“Not right now, but that depends on why you’re here. Are you a…” He gave Iwaizumi a once over, “maybe an older brother of one of our players?”

 

Iwaizumi saw out of the corner of his eye that Oikawa had finally noticed his presence. “No, actually I’m here to see Oikawa, if possible. I thought practice would be just about over by now.”

 

Yahaba’s smile dropped; his eyes narrowed. “You’re not from that strip club, are you?”

 

“What?” Iwaizumi’s face heated up. “No! I’m—I’m his neighbor, sort of.”

 

“Ah,” he cocked an eyebrow, “Well, practice is almost over. We have the Inter-High preliminaries coming up, so we’ve been staying a bit longer.” He started walking back to the court and called out over his shoulder. “Stay and wait, if you want. Just don’t come in here with street shoes.”

 

Iwaizumi nodded and looked back at Oikawa, whose face had tightened into a painfully fake smile. The practice match had ended during Yahaba’s greeting and now he and Oikawa were leading the team in the final discussion before cool down stretches. The team broke into stretching and some underclassmen began disassembling the nets. Oikawa stayed firmly in place next to the white board, talking over-excitedly to Yahaba, who nodded in affirmation despite his suspicious expression.

 

Soon all the players started gathering cleaning supplies and Oikawa still hadn’t budged from his spot. Iwaizumi rocked in impatience, checking his watch. Ten minutes and Oikawa still hadn’t acknowledged him. Some fucking plan. Cursing under his breath, Iwaizumi took off his shoes and carried them as he walked into the gym with socked feet.

 

As he passed a group of students rolling up diving mats, he heard a familiar voice of shocked recognition.

 

“Oh? Iwaizumi-san? So that was you outside,” the cat-like boy shuffled over to him, dragging a rolled up mat behind him.

 

“Good evening, Koike-kun. Did you have a good practice?”

 

Koike blushed, gripping the mat in his hands. “Uh, yeah. We’re, um, really working hard since the prelims are coming up…”

 

“Well, I’m sure you guys will do great.” Iwaizumi smiled for extra encouragement.

 

“Um…” Koike’s blush deepened, his voice almost dropping to a whisper. “Thank you for texting Oikawa-sensei for me the other day. He was really understanding about everything…”

 

“Oh, it was no trouble at all. But really, I’m impressed that you cared so much. At least at my old school morning practices were optional so a lot of people skipped out on them.”

 

Koike’s eyes flashed. “You played volleyball too?”

 

“Yeah, I was a wing spiker all the way through college.”

 

“Um, were you ever, maybe, captain at all?” Koike bit his lip.

 

“Nah,” Iwaizumi waved the notion away. “I was vice-captain both of my final years, but never captain. I was the ace though, for what it’s worth.”

 

Koike’s eyes dropped “Oh…”

 

“Why do you ask?”

 

“Well, I’m sort of vice-captain now and the official setter… and everyone on the team thinks I should be captain next year but I’m not really that type of person… I, I don’t think I have the charisma. And I thought maybe since you seemed like the type, you could… I don’t know…”

 

Iwaizumi cocked his head to the side. “But your team nominated you for captain, right?”

 

Koike nodded. “But—“

 

“So they believe in you. That means you already have their support behind you and they trust you to guide them,” Iwaizumi paused for a moment. “Would you say you’re friends with your teammates?”

 

“Um, yeah, of course.”

 

“And do you trust them?”

 

Koike took a deep breath. “Always.”

 

“Then that’s what makes you a good candidate for captain,” Iwaizumi feigned nudging the boy in the shoulder, making him flinch. “Besides, this is only your second year, you don’t have to worry about those responsibilities yet. Just get through this tournament season and that confidence will come with time, I promise.”

 

Koike’s tense brows relaxed and a small smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, you’re right, thanks.” But his relief was short-lived, and soon embarrassment returned to his cheeks. He bowed dramatically. “I’m sorry! I’m overstepping again!”  


“No, No, you’re fine.” Iwaizumi struggled to get the boy back upright without touching him. “You aren’t overstepping at all, please stop bowing, come on!”

 

Koike straightened up. It was hard to tell because he stood hunched over most of the time, but he was already taller than Iwaizumi. By the time he filled out and finished growing, he’d be quite the imposing figure. “It’s just…” he sighed. “It’s hard to talk to Oikawa-sensei about this kind of stuff…”

 

Iwaizumi gritted his teeth, trying to mask his frustration. “Yeah, he can be intimidating sometimes—“

 

“Oh? Helloooo!”

 

It was as if he’d been summoned. _Like a goddamn demon_.

 

Oikawa put his hand on the now bright red Koike’s shoulder. “What do we have here?” He looked at Iwaizumi, his eyes squinted from the sheer force of his tight smile. “Oh, Iwaizumi-san? It’s been a while!”

 

Now he’s adding honorifics? Iwaizumi struggled to contain his anger. “Oikawa, I saw you yesterday, remember?”

 

“Oh, you’re right!” Oikawa laughed and crinkled his nose. “It was such a brief run-in I must have forgotten that it even happened! We really should catch up sometime, though!” He turned to Koike. “Come on, Koike-kun, let’s finish putting away the equipment so we can go home.”

 

Koike nodded, clearly affected by the strange tension between the two men. He ran off dragging the mat over to his teammates, who seemed disappointed that they were being pulled away from the scene about to unfold.

 

“Well, have a good night, Iwaizumi-san!” Oikawa waved, his voice ringing out like a song on the final syllable. He was putting on the same act he did when he first met Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi didn’t like that one bit.

 

“Hang on, shittykawa!” He slapped Oikawa’s hand out of the air, grabbing his wrist before he could walk away.

 

Oikawa froze. Iwaizumi noticed how the gym had fallen completely silent around them, all of the students also stopped in their tracks. Oikawa turned his gaze slowly, dragging his venomous eyes up Iwaizumi’s frame.

 

“Please, Iwaizumi,” His smile stayed in place, but his tone came out vaguely threatening. “Not in front of my students, okay?”

 

Iwaizumi dropped Oikawa’s wrist and watched him walk away, the anger still bubbling up inside him. Somehow he managed to keep himself from yelling. “Can we talk, please? I came all this way!”

 

A hand clapped down on his shoulder. He turned and saw Yahaba starting to drag him away. “Come on, outside.”

 

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to retort but he saw the wide-eyed stares of high school students glued to his retreating form and decided to wait until he was outside of listening range.

 

He and Yahaba walked together to the middle of the courtyard, stopping only when Yahaba decided they’d put enough distance between themselves and the gym. Yahaba let go of Iwaizumi and sighed, ruffling his bangs. Iwaizumi slipped his shoes back on as Yahaba spoke.

 

“Look, you have to realize that was a bad idea. Maybe if Oikawa-san were like a normal person,” he paused, giving Iwaizumi a dirty look, “and maybe if you didn’t have temper issues, I don’t know, maybe it would have worked out in the fantasy way you expected. But that was never going to work.”

 

“I should have waited for the kids to clear out…”

 

Yahaba shot him another dirty look, “You think?” He stretched his back and walked over to one of the benches near the walkway edge and plopped himself down. “It wasn’t a total disaster in there, but it was quickly approaching dangerous levels.”

 

Iwaizumi clenched his fists. “I’m sorry, it’s just, it’s so annoying when he acts like that.”

 

Yahaba let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, yeah, it’s annoying as shit. After the first week I didn’t think I was going to make it with him as my advisor. Balancing my thesis and outlining coursework in this rigorous environment? Sure, no problem. But that guy’s attitude…” Yahaba shuddered, laughing again. “I thought they were setting me up with him as a part of the weed out process.”

 

Yahaba gestured for Iwaizumi to sit next to him as he continued. “But over time I realized he’s insanely dedicated, and he’s kind of brilliant, as frustrating as that is. And I really respect him.” His gaze turned to Iwaizumi, taking on an aggressive air. “First, I don’t like you, let’s get that straight.”

 

Iwaizumi leaned back in his seat. “Okay, why’s that?”

 

“You have terrible decision-making skills and you’re fickle.” He kept going before Iwaizumi could interrupt. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but I know _something_ happened. Oikawa-san’s relationship with his phone has taken a drastic turn. And then those strippers came to visit last week—and they had the decency to wait for practice to completely finish—and talked to him about some guy problem—the problem I’m assuming would be you. And now Oikawa-san’s being extra fake and annoying, so thank you for that.”

 

“I’m sorry that—“

 

“However,” Yahaba leaned forward, “before all the shit, Oikawa-san was way more bearable. Sure, the constant texting was annoying, but it never distracted from his work or attention to practice, so it was more or less benign. But he seemed happy, and way more genuine. So… thank you for that.”

 

Iwaizumi blinked. “Thanks… for what exactly?”

 

Yahaba rolled his eyes. “Even though you’ve screwed up, you made Oikawa-san… not insufferable? He was tolerable, and most of his annoying traits went away.” He stood up abruptly. “So I have a proposition for you. This upcoming week isn’t a good time for reconciliation, Oikawa-san’s going to be way too stressed out with Inter High prelims to be willing to swallow his pride and listen to you. So, my suggestion is that you come to the tournament. You’ll be supporting Oikawa-san’s team, which he’ll like, and if we do well he’ll be much more agreeable.”

 

Iwaizumi knitted his brows together. “Why are you offering to help me out? I thought you didn’t like me.”

 

Yahaba looked down at him sideways, his hands jammed in his pockets. “I don’t like you, but when you and Oikawa-san were happy together or whatever, my life was easier. So, what do you say?”

 

“What time is your first match?”

 

“We’re seeded, so our first game is on the second day of the tournament, next Saturday at 11.” Yahaba started for the gym but stopped, he turned back to Iwaizumi, his voice low. “I believe in second chances, but just that. No third or fourth. Don’t screw this up.” He turned back again and called back, the students now making their way out of the gym. “See you next weekend, Iwaizumi-san, I’m counting on you!”

 

* * *

 

It took a lot of internal debating, and some external debating (much to Hanamaki’s chagrin), but Iwaizumi had decided to follow Yahaba’s advice. He’d taken a paid day off work, his first since starting at Sakusa & Associates. Hanamaki assured him it would be fine to take a paid time this early during his time at the company, but he was probably eager to get Iwaizumi out of the cubicle.

 

The Kyoto City Gymnasium reminded Iwaizumi of the Sendai Gym from his youth. It had only been a few years since his last official tournament in college, but there was a different energy surrounding high school games. Everything felt bigger, more high-stakes.

 

Kyoto had two sets of preliminaries: district and prefectural. This weekend Horikawa would be participating in the district round, but it was widely known that the preliminaries of Kyoto City proper were just as hard as the prefecture as a whole. Imadegawa Preparatory High School had been ranked nationally since Iwaizumi’s time in high school and like Horikawa they were seeded in the district preliminaries; if both teams won their first match of the day they’d face off against each other in the semi-finals that afternoon.

 

Iwaizumi made his way to the stands, finding the Horikawa section with ease. A bright blue banner hung on the railing in front of the Parents’ Association that read “Spirit and Perseverance.” Iwaizumi snaked through the cheering squad in the front row and found a seat on the edge of the Horikawa designated area. He sat down and crossed his arms, feeling slightly out of place amidst the overzealous parents and students.

 

The Horikawa players were already on the court warming up, mostly spiking and receiving drills. They, for the most part, had good form; it was clear they were conditioned players from a powerhouse school. The coaches merely supervised as the boys led their own drills, though the two of them seemed enrapt in whiteboard diagrams and strategy.

 

Oikawa obviously hadn’t put as much effort as usual into his appearance: the coach’s uniform he wore looked thrown on, and his hair lacked the bounciness Iwaizumi was sure he’d still be able to see from this distance. But this lack of effort only proved how much he didn’t need the usual routine: it was still nearly impossible for Iwaizumi to take his eyes off of him.

 

The referee blew the whistle signaling the captains to the middle of the court. The rest of the team began gathering balls and preparing themselves for the first set. Koike looked up into the crowd and spotted Iwaizumi. He waved, a little surprised, and Iwaizumi waved back. Even if Oikawa was still unpleasant after today’s meeting, at least Iwaizumi could feel good about supporting Horikawa’s nervous setter.

 

Soon the teams took to the court, shaking hands before the start of the match then taking their positions. The opponents, Kyoto Technical High School, had the first serve. Iwaizumi didn’t know much about their team other than they made it to the district quarterfinals against spectator expectations. Looking at the line up, most of their players were second and first years, with their captain as the only third year regular member.

 

The first serve went up: a powerful jump-serve. Horikawa’s libero picked it up with ease, sending the ball cleanly to Koike. The blockers on the other side readied themselves as three spikers approached the net. Koike jumped to set, his form perfectly clean, Iwaizumi couldn’t tell where he was going to set it. In a split-second, Koike turned, attacking the ball in a setter dump. The crowd around Iwaizumi erupted in cheers and Iwaizumi himself felt the urge to rise to his feet. The attack was so bold; it seemed uncharacteristic of what Iwaizumi knew about Koike. He would bet money that was Oikawa’s influence.

 

Horikawa’s next server was practically a canon, scoring three no-touch aces in a row. The difference in ability between the teams was blatantly obvious, and the first set was over before Iwaizumi knew it. The second set flew by just as fast. Horikawa was a well-oiled machine, quick at adapting to their opponent’s weaknesses and strategies. It reminded Iwaizumi of the teams he often lost to in high school, he almost felt bad for Kyoto Tech.

 

The ref blew the final whistle, the score: 25-13. Horikawa Academy won handedly. The stands around him erupted in cheers, the boys on the court flocked around their captain and Koike, who together pulled off their winning play. Oikawa beamed over at the boys. They gathered for a team meeting before leaving the court for a short break. Iwaizumi jumped up, almost knocking over a Horikawa student in the process. He apologized as he ran off.

 

It didn’t take long to find where Horikawa was resting outside the gym. Yahaba saw Iwaizumi approaching first, and leaned in to say something to Oikawa. Oikawa straightened up, he started to smooth his hair before stopping himself, forcing his mouth into what he must have thought was a straight line. He met Iwaizumi a few meters away from the team.

 

“Ah, Iwaizumi-san, what a surprise to see you here.”

 

Iwaizumi clenched his fist instinctively, but he anger quelled when he saw the genuine interest in Oikawa’s eyes. “Yahaba told me your team was seeded in the Kyoto prelims and I got curious. Plus I want to see how well Horikawa will fair against Imadegawa, they’ve been a powerhouse since our time.”

 

“I didn’t know your interest in high school volleyball ran so deep.” Oikawa turned his face away, just poking out his lower lip. “You’re so dedicated to the memories of your youth.”

 

“I guess we both are, huh, coach?” Iwaizumi nudged Oikawa. A tremor ran up Oikawa’s body. The touch drew Oikawa’s gaze back to Iwaizumi and when they made eye contact neither of them could fight the urge to smile.

 

“So,” Oikawa started, biting his lip, “how creepy do you feel watching a bunch of high school boys you don’t even know play volleyball, sitting amongst their friends and family?”

 

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes, “Well, I didn’t feel creepy at all until you brought that up, so thanks.”

 

“Aw, you have no self-awareness, do you Iwa—izumi?” He just barely stopped himself from falling into the old nickname.

 

“Oi,” Iwaizumi stepped forward, “cool it with that shitty personality, or I’m going to embarrass you in front of your own team.”

 

“Hm?” Oikawa leaned in closer as well. He licked his lips before he continued, consciously or subconsciously Iwaizumi couldn’t tell. “How’s that? Are you going to get on a stool and slap me?”

 

Iwaizumi’s smile dropped. “Are you serious, you’re not even that much taller than me?”

 

Oikawa cupped a hand over his ear. “Oh, tiny Iwaizumi, I can’t hear you from all the way down there!”

 

“Stop that!” Iwaizumi swatted Oikawa’s hand away, the other man yelped. “You’re such a child, you embarrass yourself enough!”

 

Oikawa made a face. “You’re so mean! Why do I even talk to you!”

 

Iwaizumi shifted slightly. “I’m glad you’re talking to me, though.”

 

“Well,” Oikawa looked away, an air of seriousness replacing his previously silly demeanor. “it would be rude to ignore you after coming all this way. I guess.”

 

“Maybe we can talk more later? After Horikawa wins this next game, maybe over dinner, about everything?” Iwaizumi tried to ignore the sweat building up in his palms.

 

Oikawa scoffed. “Dinner is too formal, drinks would be more appropriate.”

 

Iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow. “So, is that a yes?”

 

“We’ll see how I feel after we win.” Oikawa looked back at him quickly then looked away again. “So don’t go too far.”

 

As if on cue, Yahaba called for Oikawa who turned to return to his team in an instant. Iwaizumi called after him. “I’ll be right here, I promise.”

 

Oikawa looked over his shoulder. “Good. I’ll see you then.”

 

As Oikawa met back up with Yahaba, the assistant coach’s face lit up with curiosity. He looked past the man blabbering to his right and assessed Iwaizumi from afar, offering an approving nod. The two men turned to address their team and together the group turned back in to the gym, hungry for another victory.

 

And before they all slipped away completely behind the metal double doors, Iwaizumi saw Oikawa look back at him quickly, grinning the whole time. He couldn’t wait for Horikawa to win this match already.

 

* * *

 

The final whistle still echoed through Iwaizumi’s mind on the subway, just as loud as it had over the stunned Kyoto City Gymnasium before the crowd erupted in cheers.

 

Three sets. All three ending in a deuce. The first only went up to 27, Horikawa fell to a successful block wipe, giving the set to Imadegawa. The second set reached 30, this time Horikawa had wrestled away the winning point through a brilliantly executed synchronized attack.

 

“The next stop is Shijō. Doors will open on the right.” The calm, monotone voice was enough to remind Iwaizumi he wasn’t still in the stands, but not quite enough to bring him back to the present.

 

The third set may have been, hands down, the best volleyball Iwaizumi had ever seen. It was better than any match he’d had in high school or college. Hell, it was better than any game from nationals he’d seen on tv.

 

Horikawa’s libero was a genius, that’s for sure, and his reflexes were so fast he’d be in position for a block follow before Iwaizumi could see how the ball ricocheted back across the net. And Koike always seemed to find the perfect spot for his spikers, from the middle blocker who could almost always clear the top of the block to the powerhouse ace who smashed through more walls than Iwaizumi would have thought possible himself. Their team was so solid, so fluid, they connected so well that they functioned more like a single machine than as a group of players.

 

Imadegawa was highly skilled as well. Maybe that’s why they won.

 

The doors opened at Shijō station and Iwaizumi flew out of his seat onto the platform.

 

He knew that devastation well. That feeling when you’d given your all and it wasn’t enough. He knew how heavy your legs felt after a match, even heavier after a loss. He couldn’t blame the Horikawa players for struggling to rise to their feet and line up to shake the hands of the people who’d stopped their dreams short.

 

Iwaizumi could barely stand to watch the shaking Koike stumble over for the team’s final huddle. It was obvious once that final block went up that Imadegawa had read his next attack with enough confidence to commit a dedicated shift in their players. The amount of guilt Koike felt had to be soul-crushing, and that poor kid didn’t deserve it. Iwaizumi dug his nails into his palms before checking on Oikawa.

 

At first, he seemed fine, better than fine, really. Oikawa stood with full composure, acknowledging each player as he gave some variation of the “hard fought loss” speech Iwaizumi had heard way too many times. But when the huddle broke and Oikawa turned to say something to Yahaba, Iwaizumi knew everything was wrong.

 

It was the hard, plastic smile. The one that Iwaizumi had only seen Oikawa wear when holding out just before a massive breakdown.

 

_My team’s going to nationals, I’m going to make sure of it._

 

Iwaizumi pushed himself up the stairs two and three steps at a time.

 

_I fuck up, I’ve fucked up… I’m nothing! I let everyone down, I’m worthless, I’m worthless…_

 

It was customary to take the losing team out for a cathartic dinner, so Iwaizumi waited as patiently as he could while Oikawa took care of his team. Once the sun started to set, though, he high-tailed it toward Horikawa like a madman. Who knew how much longer Oikawa could hold up everyone else’s spirits when he was surely taking all the blame on himself?

 

Iwaizumi sprinted down the last block from the train station, his body subconsciously trying to make up for lost time.

 

As he rounded the entrance gates, he passed the first wave of Horikawa players leaving the school grounds. His eyes met Koike’s and his feet nearly stalled. He wanted to console the kid, he knew how responsible he must feel for the team’s loss after being read like that, but in his mind Iwaizumi could only hear echoes of Oikawa’s cries in the bar. Instead he nodded at Koike, who seemed to understand Iwaizumi’s sense of urgency. He nodded back, tears in his eyes, but his face remained stern despite the crying teammates around him. Koike would make a good captain when the time came.

 

Iwaizumi breezed through the main hallway of the school, nearly missing security altogether. He turned the final corner for the courtyard when he nearly slammed into Yahaba.

 

“I’m so sorry, I just—“ the words came out in a flurried breath, but Yahaba cut him off.

 

“He already left the gym. I think he went up to the staff room.”

 

“Where’s that?”

 

Yahaba pointed back in the direction Iwaizumi just came from. “Up the stairs, turn left. It’s the last door on the right.”

 

Iwaizumi thanked him and swiveled on his heel, turning back toward the staircase. He bounded up two stairs at a time; his legs couldn’t carry him fast enough. He knew what he was headed towards.

 

All of his momentum halted abruptly once he reached that final door. But there was no hesitation. Iwaizumi took a deep breath to prepare himself and slid open the door.

 

Oikawa was there. Of course he was, Yahaba wouldn’t lie. And he was sitting in front of a desk, his knees pulled up to his chest, his shoulders shaking due to his deep, gulping breaths. His eyes were wet with tears, but not too red, he must have gotten up to the room only moments before Iwaizumi. He looked up at his intruder with surprise, but with none of the disgust or haughtiness he’d been putting on for the past week. His mouth opened uselessly but no words came out.

 

“Say something,” Iwaizumi commanded, his voice harsher than he wanted.

 

Oikawa’s nose crinkled as he spoke, “Iwa-chan, what are you doing here?”

 

As much as Iwaizumi hated the sight in front of him, it was so nice to hear ‘Iwa-chan’ again. “I knew you’d be beating yourself up after today, so I came here to stop you.”

 

“How, by yelling at me?” Oikawa sneered, trying to regain his cool façade, but it was ruined by an ill-timed sniffle.

 

“Maybe.” Iwaizumi walked over and plopped down on the desk next to Oikawa. “It was an amazing game.”

 

“But they lost,” Oikawa gripped his knees tighter, “and I couldn’t do anything.”

 

“Of course not. You’re the coach. At the end of the day, those boys are the ones on the court, and you can give them the best guidance you can but somebody has to lose.”

 

“Why did it have to be them…” Oikawa pressed his face into his knees. Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if he was crying again, but he had his suspicions.

 

“I don’t know. The team with the stronger six wins. Maybe at that critical moment the other team had the stronger combination.”

 

Oikawa’s head lifted, his tone was indiscernible. “Are you calling my team weak?”

 

Iwaizumi hit his shoulder, purely on instinct. “No, I’m not! And before you say it, I’m not calling you weak either. Damn it, Oikawa, my team lost a lot in high school, you know, and people used to say stuff like this to us all the time. I always thought it was bullshit. But every kid on every team works hard, they all train to win. Sometimes you have to lose because the other team worked harder, or their plays were better, or, fuck, I don’t know, they had some genius th—“

 

“Stop.” Oikawa’s whole body stiffened. Iwaizumi couldn’t quite make out his facial expression from behind the limbs, but he didn’t have to guess at Oikawa’s emotions for long. “I get all that, okay? I get how hard work and decisions and geniuses play into everything. I know things are unfair sometimes.”

 

“Then why are you—“

 

“Why am I upset?” Oikawa’s pupils contracted. His whole body seemed to shrink away, just outside of Iwaizumi’s grasp. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I just became the official coach and I promised these kids I’ve worked with since their first year I’d get them to nationals. These kids who I’ve spent all three years of my time at Horikawa and all three years of their high school career preparing for this tournament and I failed them. I let them down and now they’ve wasted their time—“

 

“Do you really think those kids think they’ve wasted their time?” Iwaizumi was fully aware of the tension in his voice now. “And it’s only June, they still have time. What about the Spring Tournament?”

 

“Horikawa doesn’t allow third years to participate in sports after summer tournaments—“

 

“Why the hell not?”

 

“Because they believe that time should be spent preparing for college entrance exams. This is a pretty academic school, Iwa-chan.”

 

“So they don’t get a say?”

 

“Well, they can try,” Oikawa shrugged, “but their advisors usually won’t let them. That’s what’s happened every year since I’ve been here.”

 

“But you’re the coach now.”

 

“Yeah, so?”

 

“You’re Oikawa Tooru,” Iwaizumi crossed his arms, puffing his chest out, “and for a while I thought you were the most stubborn, persistent man I’ve ever met. But if you’re going to sit here and sulk about letting these kids down when you know you can fight for them to have a second chance then you aren’t even half the man I thought you were.”

 

Oikawa lifted his head, trembling slightly. “Iwa-chan…”

 

“So what are you gonna do? Are you gonna let those kids graduate with the regrets you think that they have or are you gonna make good on your promise and get them to nationals?”

 

“What if it doesn’t work?”

 

“You’ll make it work.”

 

Oikawa scoffed. “How can you be so sure?”

 

“Because you don’t give up on things. At least, not without a hell of a fight. I have the messages to prove it.”

 

That did it. The atmosphere shifted to something almost hostile.

 

Any vestige of a tremor left Oikawa’s body in an instant. He was all stone and ice. “This isn’t about that, Iwa-chan.”

 

“Why not? You’ve already made up your mind about those kids, I can already tell—“

 

Oikawa snapped, releasing his knees and planting his feet firmly on the floor. “You don’t know that, you don’t know me that well.”

 

“I do know that. And I don’t know you very well, but I know some things about you. And I want to learn more.”

 

“Tch.” Oikawa spun away in his chair, sticking out his chin, “It’s too late for that, you missed your chance.”

 

“I don't think that’s true.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because you’re calling me ‘Iwa-chan’ again.”

 

Iwaizumi could see the faintest pink sprawl across Oikawa’s cheeks in the moonlight. Oikawa gawked. “I’m only doing that because I know you hate it.”

 

“You know I don’t hate it.”

 

“Oh?” Oikawa cocked his head to the side, his demeanor possessing an air of looking down at Iwaizumi despite the current height difference. “So maybe I should call you Iwaizumi then—“

 

“Please, don’t.” Iwaizumi shifted on the desk, angling himself to face Oikawa head on as best as he could. “Oikawa, I’m really sorry. I can’t even explain why I did what I did, why I ran away. I was scared.”

 

“Scared of what?”

 

Iwaizumi swallowed his pride. “Of how you made me feel. Oikawa, I’ve never met anyone like you. Sometimes you don’t make sense to me, like how you can be so confident and so insecure at the same time. And those insecurities don’t make any sense either, because I mean, look at you—“ Iwaizumi felt the heat rising from his neck and ears at a record speed. “I mean, not physically! Not that you have anything to be ashamed of there! But, well, fuck, Oikawa, look at how guilty you feel now about this team. It’s so frustrating, I don’t know whether to hit you or—“ the words got stuck in Iwaizumi’s throat.

 

Oikawa stared back at him, his eyes cool and his expression controlled. “Or what, Iwa-chan?”

 

“…Don’t make me say it.”

 

“No. I will make you say it,” Oikawa barked. “If what you’re telling me is even a little true, than you’ll say it.”

 

Iwaizumi swallowed hard. His whole body felt massively on edge, but he wasn’t going to back down now. “Or kiss you.”

 

The control Oikawa had over his facial muscles gave out. His hand flew up to cover the emotions washing over him. “Liar!”

 

“I’m not lying!”

 

“Then why did you leave me?” Oikawa was yelling, equally angry and pained. “Why did you leave after what I told you, after how distraught I was?”

 

“I told you, because I was scared!”

 

“If you couldn’t handle that, then you sure as hell can’t handle me!”

 

“Oika—“

 

“No! Don’t! Don’t try to talk your way out of it!” Oikawa’s voice grew louder, but he wasn’t shaking, no tears welled up in his eyes. “I gave you so long to explain yourself, to try to make up for what you did and you did nothing! You don’t get to change things now that you’ve decided it’s convenient for you!”

 

“It’s not like that! And you should know how hard this is for me—“

 

“Don’t give me that excuse! Just because you’ve been hurt doesn’t mean you can treat other people like shit and hurt them without any consequences!”

 

Iwaizumi froze. Oikawa was right. He’d been using the loss of his soulmate as a crutch for so long. How many times had he caused someone else pain when he thought he was just protecting himself? He thought of his mother’s face when he told her he was moving to Kyoto. Kindaichi popped into his head too, and he’d stuck by Iwaizumi all this time.

 

“I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m apologizing now,” he added the next part before Oikawa could cut in, “but you’re right. I can’t let what I’ve been through become an excuse to hurt others. And I can’t expect you to forgive me just because I’m asking.” He reached out and cupped Oikawa’s cheek, wiping away the trail left by an old tear with his thumb. “But I am asking. Because I want you, Oikawa Tooru, I want you in my life.”

 

Oikawa’s face pulled back into a grimace, closing his eyes as tightly as he could. “This isn’t fair.”

 

“I promise, I won’t use my soulmate as an exc—“

 

“No, not that!” Oikawa opened his eyes, but he refused to turn them toward Iwaizumi. “You can’t say things like that because it’s too hard to stay mad, it’s not fair.”

 

Iwaizumi chuckled, the smile spreading across his face effortlessly. “I’m sorry.”

 

Oikawa’s gaze was drawn in by the laugh and almost immediately he groaned. “And that smile is not fair either, ugh!” He furrowed his brows, throwing his words at Iwaizumi like accusations. “And where do you get off saying nice things to me and being mean to me and then looking at me like that and just, how dare you.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi said again, unthinkingly leaning closer toward Oikawa, “It must be because I like you.”

 

Oikawa’s breath hitched, but he leaned forward as well. “I still don’t forgive you.”

 

“That’s okay.” Iwaizumi’s thoughts started to haze. The tips of his fingers stretched past Oikawa’s hairline, just ghosting the silky locks. “You don’t have to.”

 

“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa’s eyes dropped down to Iwaizumi’s lips, the long lashes barely masking the fullness of his pupils.

 

Iwaizumi didn’t need more guidance than that. He closed the distance between them, just touching his lips to Oikawa’s in a final apology. He pulled back and rested his forehead against Oikawa’s, relishing the warmth of his skin.

 

Oikawa looked up at him, lifting his hand up to the back of Iwaizumi’s neck. “I like you too.”

 

The next kiss wasn’t as gentle, but it still maintained the same level of tenderness. Oikawa pulled Iwaizumi in closer, enough to deepen the kiss. Iwaizumi couldn’t resist the urge as his hand slipped behind Oikawa’s hair and gripped a few tufts a little too tightly. Oikawa let out a small gasp and Iwaizumi took his bottom lip between his own, toying with the idea of sliding his tongue over it.

 

Iwaizumi broke away for a second, scooting himself off the desk and onto Oikawa’s lap. He kissed him again, harder, giving into his need to taste Oikawa, fully drinking him in. Oikawa opened his mouth slowly, allowing Iwaizumi to slip his tongue across the row of perfect teeth before venturing farther in. They settled into a steady rhythm as Oikawa’s hands mapped the contours of Iwaizumi’s hardened back muscles and Iwaizumi knotted his fingers into Oikawa’s hair to what he vaguely thought might be an irreversible state.

 

There was gentle panting, but none of the gasping breaths of their first kiss. This time it was more relaxed, a healing kiss full of apologies instead of repressed desire. Yet Iwaizumi still felt himself become completely lost in the experience, and he knew despite the softness of the moment he was still rapidly approaching a point of no return.

 

He removed his hand from Oikawa’s hair before pulling his face back. Oikawa’s eyes opened slowly, drifting in and out of focus. Iwaizumi stroked his face with both hands, watching as Oikawa’s expression transitioned from serene to lucid.

 

“So,” Oikawa pouted his reddened lips, “are you going to run away this time?” His tone was biting, but there was no venom behind his words.

 

“No way,” Iwaizumi left a swift peck on the tip of Oikawa’s nose, “I’m never running away from you again.”

 

Oikawa tightened his grip on Iwaizumi’s shirt. “Promise?”

 

“I promise.”


	9. It's Your Birthday, Iwa-chan!?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi forgets something relatively important and Oikawa goes to great lengths to make up for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, bitch.
> 
> I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.
> 
> (No, but really I went through a crazy crazy time the last few months and haven't been able to do this fic justice but it is still my baby and I can finally give it proper attention. Starting with this arc of new relationships and light domesticity)

Iwaizumi couldn’t type fast enough. He hoped that his rush wouldn’t result in any errors—errors he’d have to address Monday morning. The numbers seemed to make sense; everything added up. He cursed his sluggish fingers for taking so long, and almost regretted taking a long lunch.

 

But it really had been weeks since he and Kindaichi hung out, and Kindaichi was so insistent on taking him out he really couldn’t say no. They went to an upscale restaurant, Yachi’s, of course, and Kindaichi had even gone through the trouble of getting them a private room. It was great: the food was delicious, the conversation was hilarious, the company was enjoyable—Yachi and even Kuroo came by to chat for a while. And it was long. An hour longer than usual.

 

Iwaizumi glanced down at the clock at the corner of his screen. It was already after 8. His phone went off as he began his final remarks on the sales projection. Then once again before he’d even gotten to the next sentence.

 

With a sigh he opened the waiting messages.

 

>>[Oikawa]: Iwa-chan are you still in the office??

 

>>[Oikawa]: Do I have to come in there and rescue you!!??

 

Iwaizumi typed out his reply, slightly annoyed at how much faster his fingers seemed to move on his phone than on his desktop.

 

>>[Iwaizumi]: Stay outside I’m almost done and no one wants to see your dramatics.

 

The almost instant triple text reply was enough to make Iwaizumi smile. It had been a week since he and Oikawa reconciled and they’d already settled back into their old routine.

 

Tonight they were going to have their first real date: dinner at some ethnic restaurant Oikawa wanted to try. Iwaizumi tried telling Oikawa how he didn’t like foreign food and Oikawa replied that it was his mission in life to make Iwaizumi do things he didn’t like to do. He also took the liberty to remind him that he ended up really liking the last thing Oikawa forced on him with a rather smug grin. Oikawa didn’t appreciate Iwaizumi’s inquiry about Futakuchi and his stripping career.

 

“Ah, young love motivates you, padawan. Be swift, you must, waiting is your lover for you.”

 

“Shut up, Hanamaki, I have enough Star Wars references in my life at the moment.”

 

Hanamaki propelled his chair across the cubicle, rolling right up to Iwaizumi’s side. “Tell me, how far have you gotten with Leia?”

 

“I’m serious. Stop.”

 

“Clearly you haven’t gotten laid yet,” Hanamaki mused, inspecting Iwaizumi like an archaeologist on a dig. “Not with that stick still up your butt.”

 

Iwaizumi turned to him, glowering. “Oi, knock it off!”

 

“Hmm, or maybe you _want_ a stick up your butt, like Leia’s stick! Or lightsaber perhaps?”

 

Hanamaki narrowly dodged the pen cup flying toward his head. “Now, now, is that any way to treat someone who’s going to proof your work for you?”

 

“Why would you do that, Obi-Wan?” Iwaizumi scoffed.

 

“Wait, wait,” Hanamaki’s face grew solemn. “Am I the Alec Guinness Obi-Wan or the Ewan McGregor Obi-Wan? Your answer decides the fate of your report.”

 

“You’re gonna end up like Jabba the Hutt if you don’t quit goofing around.”

 

Hanamaki gasped, placing his hands over his heart. “Now why would Oikawa strangle me, I’ve never even met the man.” His eyes widened in shock. “Is it perhaps to free his lover from the Sarlacc Pit AKA Sakusa and Associates?”

 

“Oh my god,” Iwaizumi couldn’t help but laugh, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion and defeat, “You mentioned something about proofing my report—and I swear to god if you answer with another Star Wars reference I’m gonna hit you.”

 

“Oh now we wouldn’t want that, James Tiberius Kirk.” Hanamaki shrugged under Iwaizumi’s glare. “Okay, I’ll admit, that was weak. I was on a roll; it’s hard to switch source materials on the fly. And I was offering to proof the work you’ve been rushing for the last hour so you don’t have to keep your gentleman caller waiting. I’ll even wrap up that final remarks section for you, free of charge.”

 

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes. “Am I being charged for your other services?”

 

Hanamaki leaned in uncomfortably close. “I only charge for sexual services. It’s how I made my way through Sweden.”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” Hanamaki shook his head, rising out of his seat. “Now you get out of here before Oikawa literally blows up your phone with messages. Leave the rest to good ol’ Makki.”

 

Iwaizumi grabbed his phone, still vibrating from an onslaught of Oikawa’s messages, and shoved it into his bag. “Thanks, Hanamaki. I owe you one.”

 

He was halfway down the hallway by the time Hanamaki responded. “Just get laid so you can relax a little!”

 

 

Oikawa was waiting right outside the front entrance, leaning against the wall hunched over his phone, typing furiously. Iwaizumi’s phone buzzed loudly in the front pocket of his bag right up until he was standing right next to Oikawa.

 

“Did you really think texting me over and over would get me out of the office faster, idiot?”

 

Despite the insult, Oikawa smirked. “It did though, didn’t it? I bet your coworkers loved your phone going off incessantly.”

 

“Why, why are you like this?”

 

Oikawa balked. “Like what!”

 

Iwaizumi nudged Oikawa in the ribs. “A manipulative genius.”

 

“Hmph.” Oikawa turned away, but didn’t fully conceal his smile. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.”

 

“Oh, shut up.” Iwaizumi groaned.

 

Suddenly he noticed how close he was standing next to Oikawa. He could smell the crisp notes of mint from his breath under the musk of his cologne. Iwaizumi fought every urge to grab Oikawa and kiss him and taste the mint on his lips, but he wasn’t exactly sure why he was fighting it. Oikawa definitely wouldn’t shove him off; in fact, he’d probably enjoy it. But every time the two of them kissed Iwaizumi lost his capacity for rational thought, and that wouldn’t exactly be wise right in front of his workplace.

 

“So,” Iwaizumi mumbled, taking a couple steps back, “Where’s this weird restaurant you want to go?”

 

“It’s not weird, it’s just a Mexican restaurant,” Oikawa corrected him, “And it’s that new place off Sanjo, Avocado.”

 

“Avocado?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Iwaizumi chuckled. “We’re going to a restaurant called Avocado?”

 

“What’s so funny about that?” Oikawa huffed.

 

“Nothing. Next week I’ll take you to a café called ‘Spare Rib’ or maybe a bakery called ‘Egg.’”

 

Oikawa glared at him. “Next time I’m going into your office and dragging you out before your troublesome coworker has any time to influence you.”

 

Before Iwaizumi could defend himself, Oikawa spun on his heel and headed toward the train station. Iwaizumi jogged to catch up and chastised Oikawa as soon as he did. They bickered the entire walk to the station and Iwaizumi punched Oikawa twice on the train, but the whole time neither of them truly stopped smiling.

 

Iwaizumi even enjoyed the restaurant, if not the food. At Oikawa’s insistence he tried something called an enchilada and wholeheartedly regretted it. Even the rice tasted funny and Oikawa mocked him relentlessly throughout the meal. After paying, Iwaizumi suggested the two of them pick up his dinner at the convenience store. Oikawa protested but gave in and even proclaimed the “snack and booze run” was on him.

 

The two of them drank and walked along the nearby river as Iwaizumi scarfed down three onigiri. It started to rain and the two of them dashed to take shelter under the nearest bridge.

 

Panting, Iwaizumi hit Oikawa in the arm. “Why didn’t you bring an umbrella? It’s the rainy season!”

 

“Why didn’t you!” Oikawa cried. “Why am I responsible for the weather!”

 

“The forecast said rain after 10 and I thought we’d be on the train home by now.”

 

Oikawa raised an eyebrow. “You thought the date would be over by 10? Either you had very low expectations for tonight or you really don’t know how dating works.”

 

“Oh, shut up,” Iwaizumi grumbled. He walked over to the side wall and sat down against it, patting beside him to invite Oikawa to sit. “Where were we before the storm began?”

 

“Childhood pets I believe?” Oikawa mused.

 

“Ah, a dog, a spitz named Inko. My mom’s favorite thing in the world.”

 

Oikawa snorted. “You named your dog ‘Inko?’ Did you not know your animals yet when you named it?”

 

“Actually, my little cousin Sakura named him and she was learning her animals at the time,” Iwaizumi replied with a smug grin. “She thought ‘Inko’ was a funny word.”

 

“That’s actually adorable,” Oikawa marveled. “How old is ‘little Sakura’ now?”

 

“Nineteen.”

 

“Not so little anymore.”

 

Iwaizumi shook his head. “No, she isn’t. I can’t believe she’s in college already.”

 

“And Inko?”

 

“Nah, not smart enough. More of a trade school dog.”

 

Oikawa made a face. “I meant how old is Inko.”

 

“Inko would be sixteen this year.”

 

“Would be?” Oikawa’s eyes widened. “Iwa-chan, I’m sorry, I thought since they have a long lifespan and you said he’s your mom’s favorite—I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s not a big deal, really,” Iwaizumi shrugged, smiling reassuringly. “He passed a few years ago, on my nineteenth birthday, actually.”

 

“What a terrible birthday present,” Oikawa mumbled.

 

Iwaizumi straightened up and faced Oikawa head on. “Change in topic: when’s your birthday?”

 

“Morbid segue!”

 

“Oikawa.”

 

Oikawa pouted. “July 20th. You?”

 

“June 10th. It’s coming up pretty soon.”

 

The heavy silence was enough to make Iwaizumi uncomfortable; Oikawa’s flat stare only made it worse.

 

“June 10th?” Oikawa echoed, his voice level and unnerving.

 

“Yeah, June 10th.”

 

Oikawa leaned forward a bit. “You’re sure it’s June 10th?”

 

Iwaizumi punched him in the shoulder. “Yes, I’m sure! I know my own birthday!”

 

Oikawa didn’t shrink back or flinch in the face of yelling. Instead, he yelled back. “That’s today!”

 

Iwaizumi had never been doused with ice-cold water before, but he had a feeling it felt something like what he was experiencing at that moment. “What?”

 

Oikawa rummaged through his bag and pulled out his phone, unlocking the screen to show the date and time. “You see! Today is June 10th! Today is your birthday!”

 

“Oh shit,” Iwaizumi mumbled. The numbness spread through his limbs in an effort to combat the shame and embarrassment. No wonder Kindaichi had been so aggressive about their lunch plans. He hadn’t even called his mother. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

 

Before he could pull out his phone in an attempt to catch his mom, Oikawa interrupted him with a wail.

 

“I can’t believe today is your birthday and I blew it! I made you go to a restaurant you hated! Then we drank cheap alcohol walking along the river like broke college students! Oh my god, and now we’re hiding from the rain under a bridge, I’m the worst date ever!”

 

“Oi, calm down,” Iwaizumi grumbled. He found his phone and stood up, ignoring Oikawa’s groaning at his feet. “We can talk about how shitty you are later, I have to make a call.”

 

Oikawa seemed to take the hint well enough—he was rather perceptive. He quieted down as Iwaizumi walked to the other end of the bridge. It was pretty late, but sure enough it only took three rings for his mother to answer.

 

“Hajime?”

 

“Mom! I’m so sorry, I know it’s late I just forgot what day it was and I’m sorry but I had to call you—“

 

“You forgot your birthday?” His mother tried her best to sound sympathetic, but she couldn’t fully silence the giggle bubbling up at the end of her sentence. Nor could she keep Iwaizumi from hearing his father’s bark of laughter in the background. “Oh sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize.”

 

There was a crinkling sound on the other end. His mother wasn’t covering the receiver well enough to drown out the near fit his father had fallen into. Iwaizumi could hear her trying to shush him while snorting a few times herself.

 

“I can hear you both laughing!” Iwaizumi barked hopefully loud enough that his parents could hear him amidst the cackling. From across the width of the bridge, Iwaizumi made out Oikawa’s unmistakable high-pitched snicker despite his best efforts to muffle it. The echo rang out under the damp stone of the bridge, and surprisingly caught his mother’s attention.

 

“Hajime, do you have company?”

 

“Oh, um, yeah I went out earlier…” the other end of the line was uneasily free of background chatter.

 

“Well that’s good! I’m glad you got to celebrate your birthday with friends even if you didn’t know you were,” his mother chuckled.

 

“Yeah, we went to a restaurant I hated and got caught in the rain,” Iwaizumi deadpanned.

 

Almost simultaneously, Oikawa and his mother berated his rude comment but Iwaizumi could barely pay them any attention. His mother assumed his outing was with friends but he didn't correct her. And he didn’t know if he should. Oikawa was right earlier, Iwaizumi had no idea how dating worked. He never planned for it after his marking faded and all the dating he’d done prior to that was just fun teenage goofing around. Even with Daichi they both knew the relationship had an expiration date.

 

“Anyway, I am really sorry I called so late. And that I haven’t called lately.”

 

“It’s okay, Haji, I promise,” his mother cooed. “But please do try to call more often, okay? You have me and your father worried that they have you held captive in that office and you haven’t seen the sun in weeks.”

 

“Oh, please, Dad works more than I do,” Iwaizumi scoffed.

 

“But you will call more?”

 

“Yes, mom. I’ll call more. Starting tomorrow, I promise.”

 

“I’ll hold you to it.” Iwaizumi could hear the smile in her voice. It made his heart swell with warmth and a twinge of guilt.

 

The two of them exchanged their goodbyes and Iwaizumi pocketed his phone. As he turned back to confront Oikawa, who he was sure would still be sulking, he was surprised to find him glued to the screen of his phone, muttering to himself.

 

“What are you doing? You’re not talking to Yahaba about practice are you?”

 

“Hm?” Oikawa barely registered that Iwaizumi was speaking, let alone the gentle threat.

 

“Oi! Oikawa, don’t ignore—“

 

“What time do you usually get up on your days off?”

 

Iwaizumi blinked a few times in confusion. “Wh-what?”

 

Oikawa looked up at him with an expression hard rooted in determination. “I assume you sleep in a bit later, but you don’t strike me as the ‘in bed til noon type.’ However I have kept you out later than you prefer, or so you’ve alluded.”

 

“What are you going on about?”

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa groaned, rolling his eyes, “Please. I am not going to let tonight be how we celebrate your birthday. Tomorrow I’m going all out, whether you like it or not. So I’m thinking maybe nine—“

 

Iwaizumi interrupted him with a swift chop to the head. “’Whether I like it or not?’ Shittykawa, it’s my birthday! I’m not gonna have you dragging me around town for some crazy spree!”

 

“That hurt!” Oikawa whined, gingerly nursing the red mark on his forehead. “And for the record, I wasn’t planning on ‘dragging you around town!’ The whole point of redoing your birthday is because I failed to give you an enjoyable evening on the actual day. Do you think I’d purposefully make the same mistake again?”

 

“Well, your track record speaks for itself…” Iwaizumi muttered.

 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Oikawa stood up, brushing the grass off the back of his pants. “It looks like the rain has finally let up. Let’s head back to the train station so you can get some rest and I can get started on planning the best birthday you’ve ever had!”

 

He grabbed Iwaizumi’s hand and took off. Iwaizumi let Oikawa drag him behind and they dashed along the damp riverbed, splashing puddles up to completely soil both of their work pants. Oikawa was laughing and smiling like a dork the whole way, and it really was Iwaizumi’s favorite expression on him. But just moments before he looked so focused and distant…

 

Maybe Iwaizumi was getting worked up over nothing. Instead he should’ve been preparing for the nonsense Oikawa was sure to have in store for Saturday.

 

 

Something felt off—somehow out of place.

 

Iwaizumi’s eyes slowly cracked open, though the room was not yet in focus around him.

 

It was bright enough, clearly morning, and the apartment seemed still enough. Almost quiet enough, yet somehow almost too quiet.

 

He groped around the futon, his fingers thick and heavy, until finally he felt the cold smooth surface of his phone. He grabbed it and pulled it close enough to his face to see, yanking the plug out of the wall in the process.

 

Some rhythm pounded softly in the distance, but it was wrong. It wasn’t the same gentle, repulsive synthetic marimba he expected. And when he checked for the alarm on his phone it wasn’t going off. It wasn’t even set. And it was already 9:25 in the morning.

 

Iwaizumi bolted upright, the sudden rush of blood pounding behind his right eye. Fuck, Oikawa said he’d be there by 9:30 and Iwaizumi’s place was still practically a sty.

 

The soft rhythmic beat began again. It was short, light, and, upon further consideration, clearly someone knocking on the door. Iwaizumi threw on the closest shirt he could grab as he got up to answer it.

 

Outside the apartment, Oikawa was waiting for him, nonchalantly scrolling through his phone holding a tray of coffee and a paper bag.

 

“What are you doing!” Iwaizumi yelled, with much more volition than he thought he was capable of so soon after waking.

 

Oikawa didn’t even flinch. “Iwa-chan! Good morning! I was just about to text you!”

 

“How long have you been out here?”

 

“Not long, the coffee is still hot…” Oikawa trailed off, squinting his eyes. “Bu-Brora… Brorannosaurus… Flex?”

 

Iwaizumi immediately crossed his arms to cover his chest. Of course that had to be the t-shirt within range of the futon. “Why are you here already! It’s not even 9:30!”

 

Oikawa shrugged. “I told you to be up by then, but I also wanted you to sleep in later than 7:30 like you were planning on getting up at so I turned off your alarm on the train last night.”

 

Iwaizumi smacked into Oikawa’s side. “You what! Are you an idiot!”

 

“OW! Iwa-chan!” Oikawa yelped. “You should be thanking me! Now you actually got some sleep!”

 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re insane?” Iwaizumi growled, but with much less candor. The scent of coffee hit him, weakening his rage considerably.

 

“Occasionally, but usually with less early morning violence,” Oikawa huffed, handing Iwaizumi the double sleeved cup of coffee.  

 

Iwaizumi took the cup wordlessly and lifted off the lid to release the heat. “So, where are you going to drag me today?”

 

“Nowhere,” Oikawa said flatly, if not a little smug. “We’re staying here.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I told you yesterday, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa practically sang, throwing his free arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulders, “we’re going to celebrate your birthday in a way _you_ would enjoy, and grumpy old men like to stay home—OW!”

 

Iwaizumi pushed Oikawa off of him with an elbow to the ribs. “If you’re going to be a piece of shit, then just leave.”

 

Oikawa just smiled. “You are not a morning person, are you Iwa-chan?”

 

Iwaizumi tried to get angry, but Oikawa looked too genuinely happy. So instead he took a sip of his coffee. “Just come inside.”

 

“Ooh, so dirty!”

 

“Get in the damn house, Oikawa.”

 

Once inside, Oikawa slumped a large duffel bag off his shoulder that Iwaizumi hadn’t noticed earlier. However, before he could ask about it Oikawa stepped back in horror.

 

“Iwa-chan, are you planning on moving again?”

 

Iwaizumi turned away, a little embarrassed. “No.”

 

“You mean you still haven’t unpacked since April?” Oikawa balked. He glanced over toward the rumpled futon, surrounded by boxes that appeared to be vomiting clothes. “Wait, so when you do laundry, do you come back here and just… put them back in the box?”

 

“I couldn’t ship my furniture here, so I’ve been meaning to get a dresser but I don’t have time!” Iwaizumi protested, nearly tripping as he stepped up from the genkan.

 

Oikawa sighed. “Well we’ll have to add that to the list. But before we start the celebration, we have to clean this place up.”

 

“That doesn’t sound like something I should do on my birthday.”

 

“Good thing it’s the day after!” Oikawa slipped out of his shoes and sprung into action. “Come on, Iwa-chan, I promise you’ll feel so much better once we get this done.”

 

Iwaizumi glared as Oikawa started gathering clothes at random, separating them into piles that objectively made no sense. “Don’t you mean you’ll feel so much better?”

 

Oikawa smirked. “Isn’t it the same thing?”

 

He narrowly dodged the jab Iwaizumi aimed at his leg and continued his persuasion. “At any rate, there’s no space for us to sit down anywhere without landing on a shirt, underwear, or sweatpants, none of which are as embarrassing as the ripped tank top you’re wearing right now, might I add.”

 

This time Iwaizumi’s punch landed. “That hurt!”

 

“It did not,” Iwaizumi growled. Of course Oikawa would make such a big deal out of the state of his apartment. Which was exactly why he’d planned on getting up at seven in the first place.

 

“Please, Iwa-chan, just let me help you. It’s more fun cleaning with someone else, and me organizing your apartment for you would just be an extra present.”

 

“If I say no, you’ll just keep annoying me about it for the rest of the day, won’t you?” Iwaizumi deadpanned.

 

Oikawa beamed. “Pretty much.”

 

Iwaizumi resigned himself to defeat. “Fine. Do what you want, but I’m not helping until I finish my coffee.”

 

“It’s a deal!” Oikawa hopped into the room and tossed the paper bag at Iwaizumi. “There’s some breakfast in there for you—but please, eat over by the sink, I don’t want you getting crumbs on my soon to be clean floors.”

 

After another near altercation, Iwaizumi ate the assortment of pastries Oikawa had brought him over the trashcan as he watched Oikawa divide his belongings into seemingly senseless piles. As Oikawa continued to work his system began to grow more apparent to the point that Iwaizumi felt confident enough to jump in. By noon the two of them had completely unearthed the floor. All they had left was folding Iwaizumi’s work clothes and one round of final cleanup.

 

Oikawa looked back at Iwaizumi over his shoulder. “So, you have to tell me the story behind this shirt.”

 

“Just let it go,” Iwaizumi growled as he threw another folded-down box in the pile.

 

“No way. That dinosaur is wearing sunglasses, the sleeves are ripped off, and then there’s that pun—“

 

“Okay! Okay! It’s from when I was in high school.”

 

Oikawa sneered. “Ah, so you had a terrible mascot.”

 

“Get out.”

 

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Oikawa used the dress shirt he was folding as a prop handkerchief and pleaded. “Please, keep going, was it like a club sport thing?”

 

“Actually it’s from a culture day event.” Iwaizumi’s face softened as he continued. “Each of the sports teams competed in an Olympics style series of events to declare the king. Most teams just stuck with their sport for a team name, but since we third years were no longer officially in the club we decided to have fun with the name.”

 

“And the bro theme?”

 

Iwaizumi chuckled. “It was 2009, bro jokes were still big.”

 

“It’s pretty good quality,” Oikawa conceded, finally returning to his folding. “Silkscreened, nice stitching that’s held up over the years—and the artwork isn’t bad either.”

 

“Dai actually drew it—“ Iwaizumi’s voice hitched. Oikawa knew he’d dated someone, and obviously Oikawa had been around, but Iwaizumi didn’t exactly know the protocol in this situation.

 

“Ooh, who’s Dai?”

 

“He was our captain and at the time my boyfriend.”

 

Oikawa whipped his head around, his eyes wide. “So HE’S Iwa-chan’s infamous introduction to switch-hitting.” He dodged the cardboard box flying past his head. “I never would have pegged you as being into the artsy type.”

 

“He wasn’t artsy, just, well, he could draw,” Iwaizumi waved the notion away. “He just drew the joke so we would stop arguing about a tug-o-war mascot and get on with shirt order.”

 

“He was the guy that you felt pretty serious about though, right?” Apparently Oikawa wasn’t going to be easily shaken.

 

“Uh, yeah, he was.”

 

“How long were you guys together?”

 

Iwaizumi shifted nervously, fixing his eyes away from Oikawa, who was undoubtedly staring him down. “We started dating in the third trimester of our second year and we broke up right before we went off to university.”

 

“Ooh, that’s a long time!” Oikawa marveled. “Especially since you were so young—and intent on being with your soulmate and everything.”

 

“Yeah, well, we hit it off and we thought we could stay together until we didn’t want to anymore, or moved away, met one of our soulmates…” Iwaizumi trailed off. He’d gone into differing philosophies with Oikawa before, but now a different curiosity hit him. “Have you ever been with someone long-term?”

 

Oikawa cocked a brow. “Are you implying I’m a floosy?”

 

“No, no, that’s not what I meant! Just—You haven’t really talked about your dating history, just the community, lifestyle, you know.”

 

“I’m just messing with you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa laughed. “Most of my relationships have been casual. I have been serious with two guys before, my first boyfriend in high school—classic first love ‘we’ll be together forever’ syndrome—and a guy from my college volleyball team.”

 

“How long were you two together?”

 

Oikawa shrugged. “About two years, until I finally blew my knee out.”

 

Iwaizumi finished folding down the last of the boxes and scooted over next to Oikawa to help fold. A bubble of warmth started pooling in his stomach. “Did you guys break up because of your knee?”

 

“Sort of, but not exactly. I couldn’t play anymore and whenever we were together I was reminded of it. It was a dark time for me so I started to resent him, the whole thing got pretty unhealthy.”

 

“If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”

 

“No, it’s okay, really.” Oikawa looked up at Iwaizumi with a gentle smile. “I’ve processed it, I’m over it. Besides, I don’t mind telling you these things about myself. I did have kind of a breakdown in front of you after all.”

 

Iwaizumi felt the warmth spread over the rest of his body. “Well, then, do tell me these things—if you want to.”

 

“I will take full advantage of that, don’t worry.” Oikawa stacked the final shirt on top of the pile, patting it for security. “But I don’t want to talk about him today. It’s Iwa-chan’s day! And now that the room is finally cleared enough we can start the grand celebration!”

 

“What exactly is in store for the ‘grand celebration’?” Iwaizumi asked warily.

 

With a sly grin Oikawa rose to his feet and retrieved his bag from the entryway. He sat down across from Iwaizumi and slowly began to unzip the bag, seemingly nudging Iwaizumi from anxious curiosity to worried annoyance. Finally he threw the bag open, revealing a stuffed bag of junk food, take out menus, and DVDs—all James Bond classics and two versions of Godzilla.

 

“First things first: pick a menu and I’ll order some food.”

 

Iwaizumi stood with his mouth hanging open. “Oikawa…”

 

“Yes?” Oikawa puffed out his chest, brimming with pride.

 

“… How—Are you a stalker?”

 

Oikawa’s face dropped. “What do you mean ‘am I a stalker?!’”

 

“These are all my favorite Bond movies, my favorite snacks—“ Iwaizumi sifted through the bag’s contents with wide eyes. “—almost all of these restaurants advertise their agedashi tofu… do you have a file on me or something?”

 

“Most people would appreciate someone taking notice of their interests!”

 

“I would, I just don’t remember telling you any of this?”

 

Oikawa crossed his arms and huffed. “Well you did! And your phone case is Godzilla! And the background is Sean Connery as Bond!”

 

“Whatever you say.” Iwaizumi shrugged, shaking his head.

 

“You told me how your mom always made you agedashi tofu when you were sick as a kid and last night when you made a big deal about calling her I thought you’d like that! And when we went to izakaya that one time you mentioned that in college you pretty much survived off of Pretz and—“

 

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi laughed, the stoic expression completely broken into a contorted smirk.

 

Oikawa’s face dropped. “You’re teasing me.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“You can pay for your own lunch then.”

 

“What a great birthday present, ordering my own food like a shut-in.”

 

“Fine!” Oikawa groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’ll buy your lunch, but I’m picking the restaurant AND we’re watching the Russia one first and I’m gonna ask a million questions the whole time.”

 

Oikawa ordered the food, and despite his threat did not barrage Iwaizumi with plot questions. On the contrary he was exceptionally quiet after the film started. Unnervingly quiet.

 

Over the course of the first half of the movie, Oikawa had shifted all of his body weight onto Iwaizumi. Since the first contact Iwaizumi lost all ability to concentrate on the screen for more than three seconds at a time. After three seconds his attention was stolen by Oikawa’s hair brushing against his arm, or by Oikawa’s laugh, or by Oikawa’s mint and alpine cologne.

 

Oikawa wasn’t stupid—he knew exactly what effect he was having on Iwaizumi. If anything he was trying to provoke a more extreme reaction through passive aggressive warfare. And honestly it was working. Iwaizumi’s staunch defiance was rapidly transforming into an intense desire to pin Oikawa to the futon and bite into his perfectly pale neck.

 

There was no real reason for Iwaizumi to hold himself back, but he shifted out from under Oikawa’s weight anyway.

 

“Hm?” Oikawa almost looked shocked at the loss of his human chaise, but the exaggerated arch of his back suggested otherwise. “Iwa-chan, is everything okay?”

 

“My arm fell asleep.”

 

“Do you want me to massage it for you?”

 

Iwaizumi gawked. “What? Is that line really supposed to work?”

 

“Line?” Oikawa cocked a perfect eyebrow and twisted himself around to face Iwaizumi better. “Do you think I’m hitting on you? Because newsflash, Iwa-chan, we’re already dating.”

 

Iwaizumi felt his heart shoot up into his throat. “No, dumbass, I’m talking about how you were about three scenes away from practically laying in my lap. And that’s, well, it’s, you know—”

 

“So, what if I lay in your lap? Does that have to be inherently sexual?” In a flash Oikawa swung a leg around Iwaizumi and perched himself in said lap, his face only centimeters away from Iwaizumi’s. “Say, Iwa-chan, you’ve seen this movie before, right?”

 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi was amazed there was enough blood flow to his brain to respond.

 

“So what happens in the next scene? I’m a little lost.”

 

Now the blood flow had completely redirected. Iwaizumi had lost all capacity to make a sound. He was trapped, stunned like a sailor enchanted by a siren, rapidly approaching the rocks on which he’d die.

 

He could only shake his head.

 

“No?” Oikawa tilted his head to the side. He maintained his predatory gaze, but his breathing started to grow ragged. “You don’t know? Why is that? I thought you loved James Bond.”

 

Honestly Iwaizumi had forgotten what movie they were supposed to be watching. He could barely register that Oikawa was asking him a question. He had been reduced to spinal impulses, like a beetle.

 

His lack of response was apparently too much for Oikawa, who was now rocking his hips. “Iwa-chan? Are you listening?” The wavering desperation in his voice matched the expression taking over his face.

 

It was too much. Iwaizumi practically attacked Oikawa’s mouth with his, but neither of them seemed to mind the awkward gnashing of their teeth. Oikawa actually sighed and that wash of satisfaction only spurred Iwaizumi on.

 

Oikawa’s lips were unbelievably soft, softer than anyone’s that Iwaizumi had kissed before. It was almost like they invited Iwaizumi’s roughness, demanding attention from his teeth and tongue. Those lips, so delicate and refined, begged for the most animalistic treatment Iwaizumi could give them.

 

While Iwaizumi felt himself being sucked in, Oikawa retained a modicum more control. He continued to rock his hips, bringing himself closer until he was flush against Iwaizumi after a few rhythmic thrusts. After reaching that friction against Iwaizumi’s abs, Oikawa’s consciousness flew out the window. He whimpered into Iwaizumi’s mouth against his control.

 

The whimper and the stiffness of Oikawa’s cock were enough to set fire to Iwaizumi’s nerves. He grabbed underneath Oikawa’s perfect ass and flipped their positions until he had pinned Oikawa under him like he’d been imagining for an hour now.

 

Oikawa pouted at the loss of contact and in an act of lustful defiance yanked the hem of Iwaizumi’s shirt halfway up his torso. Iwaizumi followed the cue and pulled the shirt off the rest of the way and tossed it behind him. That seemed to placate Oikawa enough. He knotted his hands into Iwaizumi’s hair and pulled his face back down to his, prying his tongue to part Iwaizumi’s lips.

 

As they explored each other’s mouths, Oikawa slid his hands down Iwaizumi’s bare back, savoring the twitch of each well-defined muscle. Once he reached Iwaizumi’s ass he pulled down again, desperate for the same sensation as before.

 

Iwaizumi broke away and chuckled. “You’re so greedy.”

 

Though he was comfortable enough to joke, the sight under him was unnervingly enticing. Oikawa laid there panting and sweaty, his eyes wide and unfocused in a frenzied bliss. And he was so achingly hard against Iwaizumi’s thigh that Iwaizumi nearly forgot about his own erection.

 

But the creeping pink blush on Oikawa’s neck triggered another animal impulse. Iwaizumi ducked down and sunk his teeth into the smooth skin, feeling the vibration of Oikawa’s yelp against his lips. Iwaizumi sucked the skin between his teeth and lapped at the marred skin gently as an apology, though by the way Oikawa arched off the futon up against him proved the apology unnecessary.

 

Oikawa started grinding against him, with each pass of his hips brushing their cocks against each other. Spurred on by friction and Oikawa’s increasingly frequent moans, Iwaizumi continued down Oikawa’s neck leaving a trail of bite marks in his wake. Soon Iwaizumi found himself thrusting in tandem with Oikawa and the familiar tightness started to grow in his lower stomach.

 

“I-Iwa-chan…” Oikawa managed through heavy breaths. He looped his thumbs under Iwaizumi’s shorts and boxers and inched them down over the heft of Iwaizumi’s ass.

 

Iwaizumi lifted himself off of Oikawa enough to allow Oikawa to slide the shorts down and shook them off the rest of the way.

 

Oikawa leaned back on his elbows enough to raise himself up slightly and opened his mouth to speak when there was a sudden knock on the door.

 

Both of them froze, Oikawa subconsciously held his breath. After a few seconds there was another knock, louder this time. Iwaizumi slowly started to return to lucidity and was slightly horrified that he was on his hands and knees, stark naked and hard, straddling another man, in the middle of a Saturday afternoon.

 

“Oh!” Oikawa wiggled out from under Iwaizumi so nonchalantly, as if they weren’t just about to get to know each other _very_ well. “It’s lunch!”

 

As Oikawa leapt up to answer the door Iwaizumi scrambled over to his discarded shorts and slid them back on. His inability to control himself whenever he touched Oikawa was getting out of hand. Maybe moderation would help ease the intensity, that or a high dose of sedatives.

 

Oikawa returned, carrying a large bag of food over to the kitchen. “So, eat first or should we finish our previous act—“

 

“I don’t want to have sex,” Iwaizumi blurted.

 

“Um, uh, what?”

 

“I don’t want to have sex today, or tomorrow, or any time soon.”

 

Oikawa glanced around the room in confusion. “Is—is it something I did?”

 

“No, no, that’s not it.” Iwaizumi turned away, busying himself with finding a new shirt. “We just seem to—things escalate really quickly whenever we start… doing things, and I’m not a prude or anything, I just don’t. I don’t have sex with just anyone you know?” Horrified, Iwaizumi spun back to face Oikawa. “Not that you’re just anyone! Just, it means something to me, I guess. And I think it wouldn’t hurt for us to try to take things slow, and kind of wait to have sex until we know we’re sure about it…” He trailed off, desperate for Oikawa to interject.

 

“So, you want to wait to have sex? Until later?”

 

Iwaizumi took a deep breath and released it. “Yes. Is that okay?”

 

Oikawa raised his brows and smiled to himself as he began setting out the food. “Of course that’s okay. We’ll wait ‘til later.”

 

He scooped out rice into a bowl and walked it over to Iwaizumi. “But if that’s the case, I’m going to have to go to the bathroom to take care of something really quick.”

 

 

Three Bond movies, a Godzilla showing, and way too many jokes about the “brorannosaurus” later, Oikawa struggled to keep his eyes open, even after switching out his contacts for glasses—which Iwaizumi mocked him mercilessly for. Every so often he had to lift his head off of Iwaizumi’s shoulder, but he made sure to keep a death grip on Iwaizumi’s wrist to keep his arm wrapped around him.

 

“So, is this Bond the Bond everyone loves or hates?” Oikawa could barely stifle the yawn mangling the end of his sentence.

 

Iwaizumi grabbed the remote and hit pause. “Oikawa, go to bed.”

 

“No, I’m not tired, I promise!” Oikawa sat up straight to prove his point. “I’m just about to get my second wind.”

 

Iwaizumi smirked. “I thought you got your second wind earlier.”

 

“Fine, my third wind then.” Almost immediately Oikawa was betrayed by another yawn.

 

“Are you even gonna make it home?”

 

“Gah! I don’t want to go home!” Oikawa flung himself face first into the futon, pulling as much of the fabric as he could up around him. “This is the last movie, anyway.”

 

Iwaizumi sighed. “It doesn’t make a difference if you’re just going to fall asleep during it, dumbass.” Oikawa mumbled something into the futon. It was muffled beyond comprehension, but it still sounded like a cross between a complaint and an insult.

 

Suddenly an idea popped into Iwaizumi’s head. “You could always just… stay here you know.”

 

Oikawa shot up like fresh toast. “Wait, like sleep over?” His lips pulled into a sly smile. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex yet.”

 

“Jesus Christ, Oikawa, just because you spend the night doesn’t mean we’re going to have sex!” Iwaizumi knew the blush had already reached his ears, but yet again Oikawa looked too elated to be genuinely angry with. “You don’t have to stay over, though, if you don’t want to.”

 

“No! I want to!” Oikawa flopped onto his back. “Can I borrow something to wear?”

 

“Sure.” Iwaizumi grabbed his phone and stood up. “You know where everything is since you put it all there, so help yourself. I’m gonna step outside to call my mom before it gets too late.”

 

“Aw, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa cooed as he started unbuttoning his shirt, “such a mama’s boy.”

 

Iwaizumi clicked his tongue dismissively before shuffling out into the hallway. He saw the time and grimaced, but it only took three rings for her to answer.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey mom, it’s me.”

 

“Hajime?” Her voice waivered with a tinge of worry. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Everything’s fine, I told you yesterday that I’d call you today, remember?”

 

“Yes, but it got so late that I thought you’d forgotten,” she chuckled. “It is good to hear from you again.”

 

Iwaizumi shuffled. “I’m sorry it got late again, I thought I’d be free earlier.”

 

“You weren’t working today, were you?”

 

“No, we have the next few weekends off before the next few games hit production.”

 

“Oh?” Her voice perked up. “So it was a social reason that kept you busy today?”

 

“Yeah, it was,” Iwaizumi mumbled. “I’m sorry, really.”

 

“No, no! Don’t apologize! I’m just so glad to hear that you’re out making friends and not just killing yourself in the office. You’re young, you should be goofing off on a Saturday.”  


“Jeez, mom, stop making it sound like I’m an old man.”

 

“Well, when the orthopedic shoe fits.” She laughed too hard at her own joke to hear Iwaizumi’s groans of disapproval. “Tell me though, what have you been up to?”

 

Iwaizumi glanced back at his apartment door nervously, as if seeking its encouragement. “Well, actually I’m sort of… seeing someone right now.”

 

Though only a fraction of a second, the pause on the other end felt like a punch in the stomach. “You are? Is it serious?” Her tone was indiscernible.

 

“It’s not too serious, it’s fairly recent—“

 

“How did you two meet?” He could hear the background noise of the tv shut off to an almost deathly silence.

 

“Well, we live in the same neighborhood. We actually met back in April at the laundromat—“

 

“So you’ve been, what, friends for the last few months? Acquaintances?” She cut herself off with a gasp. “Or maybe you met that one time and recently reconnected?”

 

Iwaizumi smirked and rolled his eyes. His mother was quite the excitable dreamer who loved to turn reality into a television drama. “We were friends for a while and decided to start dating about a week ago.”

 

She gasped again. “So this is very new! Haji, you have to tell me all about them. What do they do? Where are they from?” Her voice grew in pitch. “Oh my, are you with them right now!?”

 

“I am actually—“

 

“Oh my god, Hajime, don't call your mother when you’re on a date! Were you on a date last night when you called too?!”

 

“Mom! It’s fine! He knows I promised to call you today and he’s more than okay with it.”

 

She sighed, probably rolling her eyes like her son did only moments before. “Well while you’re leaving him to talk to me, could you at least tell me the boy’s name?”

 

“His name is Oikawa, Oikawa Tooru. And to answer your other questions he’s a high school science teacher and he’s from Miyagi, but specifically Natori.”

 

“Hmm, I’ll have to ask around and see if I can find anything out about his family—“

 

Iwaizumi felt a cold lump drop in his stomach. The last thing Oikawa needed was a nosy housewife stirring up his distant family drama. “No, mom, don’t.”

 

“Oh, Hajime, I’m only teasing!” She laughed airily, but it turned nervous at the end. “So, does he know about your… situation?”

 

“Yes, he does.”

 

“And how does he feel about it?”

 

“He’s okay with it. Actually, he kind of convinced me to start dating again.”

 

“Really? Is his marking gone too?”

 

“Well, not exactly.” Iwaizumi braced himself. “Oikawa just believes that people should choose who they love without involving markings. So his is gone but by choice.”

 

There was the deafening silence on the other end, but longer this time. Iwaizumi was ready to punch himself when he heard his mother start to cry. “Oh, Hajime…”

 

“Mom, I—I’m sorry I know it’s a lot to take in and I’m not really explaining it well—“

 

“Hajime, I am so happy for you.” She sniffled loudly and continued to speak with gulping breaths. “It’s just, after your marking faded I was so worried that you would isolate yourself and be alone for the rest of your life, but now you’re putting yourself out there again and just, I am just so happy.”

 

“Mom, calm down, it’s not like I’m getting married or anything, we’re just dating.”

 

“I know, but you’re _dating_ , Haji.”

 

Iwaizumi could hear the smile in her voice and a gentle warmth spread through his body. “Yeah, I am.”

 

“Well, I’m gonna let you go now because you have a date and your old mom is crying now.”

 

“We can talk more, Oikawa can wait.”

 

“No, no, I need to go to bed anyway. Plus if we keep talking right now I’ll just keep crying,” she laughed. “Just promise to call me next week, okay?”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I’m sure, just promise me you’ll call again, okay?”

 

“Yes, mom. I promise.”

 

“I love you, Haji.”

 

“I love you too, mom. Good night—and say hi to dad for me.”

 

She laughed again. “I will, good night.”

 

The call ended and Iwaizumi found himself grinning. He knew his mother was especially worried about him the past few years given the loss of his soulmate and his impulsive cross-country move, but he never knew how much she’d hoped he would open up to someone else again. It was nice to give her some relief.

 

Iwaizumi walked back into the apartment to find Oikawa dead asleep on the futon. He was sprawled out on his back, mouth hanging slack with a steady trail of drool pouring out onto the pillow. As a final joke, he’d decided to borrow Iwaizumi’s “brorannosaurus” shirt to sleep in.

 

He was a horribly ugly sleeper and the shirt only completed the ridiculous image. Iwaizumi had to take a picture.

 

After setting his new contact photo, Iwaizumi reached over Oikawa to grab the remote. The blurry gray scale tattoo marring Oikawa’s marking was out in full view for the first time since Iwaizumi had met him. He’d only seen the marking the one time Oikawa showed him on the train all those weeks before.

 

It was weird to think about how one person’s decision could have as much of an effect as someone dying, and weirder to think about how neither of those things are inherently good or bad. But now because of circumstance, Oikawa was asleep on Iwaizumi’s futon. They had celebrated Iwaizumi’s birthday together. On Sunday they were going dresser shopping.

 

Iwaizumi felt his life changing—only slightly, but still a change. For the longest time he couldn’t picture his future anyway other than living alone. But now Iwaizumi could admit to himself that he didn’t want that loneliness, and all it took was someone proving to him that it wasn’t inevitable.

 

“Hmm… Iwa-chan,” Oikawa mumbled; one of his eyes cracked open but remained unfocused. “Come sleep now.”

 

And now that someone was proving to him that he wouldn’t be getting any covers that night either.

 

Iwaizumi changed and brushed his teeth, expecting to return to a thoroughly passed out Oikawa. So he was surprised to see him fidgeting around in a desperate attempt to stay conscious.

 

“Oikawa, what are you doing?”

 

Oikawa turned over onto his side and beamed up at Iwaizumi with a sleepy smile.

 

“Happy birthday, Iwa-chan.”


End file.
